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THE BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

































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“‘deserted!’ jake said shortly” — Page 282 









THE BOY RANCHERS 
OF PUGET SOUND 

BY 

HAROLD BINDLOSS 

Author of “ Alton of Somasco 
1 ‘ Winston of the Prairie , ’ ’ “ Lori - 
of the Northwest , ” “ Thurs- 
ton of Orchard Valley etc. 


WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY EDWIN MEGARGEE 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1910, By 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 

All rights reserved 


September t iqio 


©GI.A268745 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Frank Goes West i 

II. The Bush ,.14 

III. The Ranch .28 

IV. Target Practice 39 

V. The Mysterious Schooner . . . .51 

VI. At the Helm 62 

VII. A Warning 71 

VIII. Salmon Spearing 82 

IX. A Plain Hint 93 

X. A Breeze of Wind 106 

XI. Mr. Barclay Joins the Party . . .118 

XII. The Stranger 127 

XIII. The Schooner Reappears . . . .137 

XIV. A Test of Endurance 148 

XV. A Midnight Visitor 157 

XVI. Frank Kills a Deer . f 166 

XVII. Mr. Webster’s Guns 174 

XVIII. Running a Cargo 184 

XIX. The Cache 195 

XX. Mr. Webster’s Slashing .... 206 

XXI. A Night on the Sands 216 

XXII. The Ultimatum 228 

XXIII. Mr. Oliver Outwits His Watchers . 237 

XXIV. A Fast Run 249 

XXV. The United States Mail .... 259 

XXVL Mr. Barclay Lays His Plans . . , 268 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXVII. The Derelict 277 

XXVIII. A Grim Discovery 285 

XXIX. The Raid 294 

XXX. The Relief of the Ranch .... 305 

XXXI. Frank Becomes a Ranch Owner . .315 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


u * Deserted 1 1 Jake Said Shortly ” . . Frontispiece v' 

FACING PAGE 

“ It Seemed Curious That She Carried No Lights ” 54 

“ Harry Stood Absolutely Motionless ” . . . .88 

“Frank Recognized Him With a Start” . . .134 

“A Shadowy Figure in a Loose Robe Bent Over 
Harry’s Bed” 158 

“ Frank Could See Nothing to Guide Them ” . .172 

“ He Wondered if He Could Lift Himself In ” . 182 

“ He Was Horribly Afraid of Dropping It Among 
the Glowing Fragments ” 214 



THE BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


/ 








The Boy Ranchers of Puget Sound 

CHAPTER I 

FRANK GOES WEST 

I T was the middle of an afternoon in May. An old 
side-wheeler was steaming south toward Puget Sound 
across the land-locked waters that lie between Van- 
couver Island and the state of Washington. A little 
astern on one hand Mount Baker lifted its heights of 
eternal snow. On the other, and a little ahead, the Olym- 
pians rose white and majestic; and between, vast, dim 
forests rolled down to the ruffled, blue water. It seemed 
to Frank Whitney, sitting on the steamer’s upper deck 
in the lee of her smokestack, that it was a wild and won- 
derfully beautiful country he had reached at last; for 
since leaving Vancouver, British Columbia, they had 
steamed past endless rocks and woods, while island after 
island faded into the smoke trail down the seething wake 
and great white mountains opened out, changed their 
shapes, and closed in on one another as the steamer went 
by. He had, however, not come there to admire the 
scenery, and as he watched the wonderful panorama un- 
roll itself he looked back upon the troubles that had be- 
fallen him since he set out from Boston a little less than 
a year ago. 

When he left that city he was but sixteen, and was, 
as he had cause to realize during the following twelve 
months, merely an average American boy, with a certain 
amount of alertness, self-reliance and common sense; 
though he might, perhaps, have had more of these de- 

I 


2 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


sirable qualities, had he not been a trifle spoiled by his 
widowed mother before he went to Gorton school. He 
had, quite apart from his lessons, learned a few useful 
things there which probably he would never have learned 
at home, but he had been suddenly recalled, and his 
mother had informed him that it was now impossible 
for him to enter the profession for which he had been 
intended. Frank did not understand all the reasons for 
this, but he knew that they were connected with the 
fall in value of some railroad stock and the failure of 
a manufacturing company in which his mother held 
shares. She had, as she pointed out, his two younger 
sisters to provide for, and he must earn his living at 
once. 

Frank found this much harder than he had expected. 
The subjects in which he excelled did not seem to be 
of the least use to business men, and the fact that he 
could play several games moderately well did not seem 
to count at all. There were people who were ready to 
give him a trial, but they seemed singularly unwilling 
to pay him enough to live in a way that he considered 
fitting; and this somewhat astonished as well as troubled 
him. In the end, a relative, who said that a young man 
with any grit and snap had better chances in the West, 
found him a position with a big milling company in 
Minneapolis. Frank accepted the position, but soon 
found it not much to his liking. The people he met 
were not like his Boston friends. They were mostly 
Germans and Scandinavians, and their ways were not 
those to which he had been accustomed. What was 
worse, they hustled him in the milling company’s offices, 
and instead of teaching him the business kept him busy 
licking stamps, copying letters and answering telephones, 
which did not seem to him a fitting occupation for an 
intellectual lad. 

He bore it, nevertheless, because he had to, until one 
day there came a climax, when a clerk who had bullied 


FRANK GOES WEST 


$ 


him all along assigned to him a particularly disagree- 
able task which was really outside his duties. In return, 
in a fit of very foolish anger, Frank screwed the clerk’s 
new hat down tight in a copying-press, and it happened 
that the secretary came upon the scene during the trouble 
that followed. The secretary had an unpleasant temper, 
and when he walked out of the general office Frank sat 
down at his desk boiling with indignation and almost 
stupefied. There was, however, not the least doubt that 
he was fired. 

He spent a very dismal evening afterward, for one 
thing, at least, was clear — he could not go home to Bos- 
ton and become a burden on his mother. But the flour 
trade was bad in Minneapolis just then, and business in 
St. Paul did not seem much better, so eventually he 
found employment in the offices of a milling company 
in Winnipeg. He suffered from the extreme cold dur- 
ing the winter there. The cold of Massachusetts, as he 
discovered, is very different from the iron frost which 
shuts down on the Canadian prairie and never slackens 
its grip for months together. The clothing he had 
brought from Boston was not warm enough, and his 
small earnings would only provide him with shelter in the 
cheapest quarters. Still, he held on until trade grew 
slack in the early spring and he was turned adrift again. 
This time he felt that he had had enough of business. 
He had heard and read of men who burrowed for treas- 
ure in the snow-clad ranges, broke wild horses, and 
cleared the forests, out in the farthest West. There 
was a romance in that life surpassing anything that 
seemed likely to be got out of the addition of flour 
invoices or the licking of stamps, and he wrote a letter 
to an old friend of his dead father, who lived on a 
ranch near Puget Sound. It was some time before he 
got an answer telling him rather tersely to come along. 

Frank started the day after he received it, and was 
now, he supposed, within a short distance of his journey’s 


4 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


end. He had never seen his father’s friend, and knew 
nothing of what he would be required to do at the ranch, 
though he fancied that all that was necessary could 
readily be learned by an intelligent lad. In this, how- 
ever, he was wrong. 

Suddenly the steamer’s whistle hurled a great blast 
out across the waters, and, looking around, Frank saw, 
not far ahead, a long point strewn with rocks and 
streaked with wisps of pines. There was, however, no 
sign of life on it, and he turned to a deck-hand who 
strode by. 

“ Can that be Bannington’s ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes/’ the man informed him. “ I guess that’s just 
what it is.” 

“ But there’s nobody about,” objected Frank. 

The deck-hand grinned. 

“ Did you expect it was like Seattle or Port Townsend? 
There’s a store to the place, and they’ve got a post-office 
back among the rocks. We lay off and whistle, and if 
there’s no sign of a shore boat she goes on again.” 

He went forward with a jump as a man came out 
of the pilot house with a pair of glasses in his hand. 

" Run up slow,” he ordered. “ There’s nothing com- 
ing yet.” 

The big side-wheels beat more slowly and the whistle 
called again, but there was still only the ruffled blue 
water with white flecks on it and the rapidly rising 
pines. Frank watched them anxiously, for he had only 
about two dollars in his pocket, and it seemed quite 
possible that he might be carried on to Seattle, in which 
case he had not the faintest notion as to how he was to 
get back. It was quite certain that he could not pay any 
more steamboat fares. 

A minute or two later the man with the glasses raised 
his hand as a sail crept out around the point, and the 
big wheels stopped. The strip of canvas grew into a 
gaff mainsail and a jib; the hull beneath it emerged at 


FRANK GOES WEST 


5 


intervals from the little tumbling seas; and it became 
apparent to Frank for the first time that it was blowing 
rather hard. The sail seemed to be dripping and he 
could see the spray flying about the shapeless figure 
at the helm. Then the steamboat officer motioned to 
him. 

“ Are you getting off here ? ” he asked. 

Frank answered rather dubiously that this was his 
intention. 

“ Then you’d better get down on to the wheel-case 
bracings with your grip. I don’t know how they’re 
going to take you off, but I guess they’ll shoot her up 
head to wind and you’ll have to jump.” 

Frank got out on the guard-framing on the after side 
of the wheel and watched the boat drive by, swung up 
on a little sea some distance away. Half of her hull 
seemed to be under water, though the fore part of it 
was hove up streaming into the air. She rolled wildly 
with her big mainsail squared right out and the jib, which 
hung slack, dripping water. Then she came round and 
headed for the steamer, lying down all slanted to one 
side, while the water sluiced along her lee deck, and 
Frank made out a boy crouching under the sail with a 
rope in his hand. It seemed to him that the boat must 
inevitably ram the steamer and smash in her bows. 
Then a hail reached him. 

“ Hello, pilot house ! Shove her astern soon as we’re 
clear of you ! ” 

Somebody shouted an answer, and the steamer swung 
out, lifting a row of wet plates out of the water and 
burying them again with a gurgling splash. A glance 
around showed Frank a deck-hand standing behind him 
with a long, spiked pole and a crowd of passengers lean- 
ing over the rails of the deck above. How he was to 
get into the boat he did not know, for the thing was 
beginning to look difficult. Then there was another 
shout from the figure at her helm: 


6 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ That you, Whitney ?” 

Frank waved his hand in answer, hastily grabbing up 
the small bag which contained his few possessions. The 
wheel-casing sank again into a ridge of frothing brine 
which swirled about his feet, and he felt that it would 
be a good deal wiser to climb back to the deck above 
and go on to Seattle. This, however, was out of the 
question, even if there had not been so many passengers 
looking on, and it was comforting to remember that he 
could swim a little. The next moment the deck-hand 
touched his arm. 

“ I’ll sling your grip aboard her as she shoots,” he 
said. “ Then jump, and stick to anything you get your 
hands on.” 

The boat was now only seven or eight yards away, 
nearer the steamer’s stern, but as Frank gazed at her 
she suddenly swayed upright with a frantic thrashing 
of canvas, and shot forward head to wind beneath the 
vessel’s side. The next moment his bag went hurtling 
through the air, and he heard the deck-hand shout some- 
thing in his ear. Then he set his lips and jumped. 

He struck something hard with his knees, and was 
conscious of a sudden chill as the brine washed over 
one leg, but he had his hands clenched tight on a strip 
of wet wood, and somebody seized him by the shoulder. 
Making a determined effort he dragged himself up on 
the narrow side deck, and fell in a heap into the bottom 
of the boat. When he scrambled to his feet again the 
big side-wheel was splashing amidst a welter of churned- 
up foam as the steamer pushed away from them, and, 
in the boat, the boy he had already noticed was tugging 
desperately at a rope. 

“ Get hold and heave ! ” he cried. 

Frank did as the boy directed. Then the helmsman 
waved his hand. 

“ Not too flat ! Belay at that ! Get down here aft, 
both of you I ” 


FRANK GOES WEST 


7 , 


Frank staggered aft a pace or two, and sitting down 
breathless and dripping gazed about him. The boat 
looked a good deal bigger than she had appeared from 
the steamer, and, as a matter of fact, she was a half- 
decked sloop of about twenty-four feet in length. Just 
then she was slanted well down on one side, with the 
water foaming along her depressed deck and showers of 
spray beating into her over her weather bow, while the 
jib above her bowsprit every now and then plunged 
into the short, white-topped seas. There seemed to be 
some water inside her, for it washed up above the floor- 
ings at every heave. In a few moments Frank had 
recovered his breath sufficiently to look around at his 
companions. One was a boy of about his own age who 
smiled at him. He had a bronzed skin and a kindly 
expression, and looked lean and wiry. 

“You're Frank Whitney?" asked the boy. 

Frank acknowledged that this was his name, and the 
other proceeded to introduce himself and his companion. 

“ I’m Harry Oliver, and, as you’re going to stay with 
us, we’ve got to hit it off together.’’ 

Then he turned and indicated the ruddy-faced, red- 
haired man who held the helm. 

“ This is Jake, one of the smartest choppers and trail- 
ers on the Pacific Slope. There aren’t many of the 
boys who could have picked you off that steamboat in 
a breeze of wind as he did.’’ 

“ Oh, pshaw ! ’’ said the helmsman with a grin. 

Neither of them had said anything striking in the way 
of welcome, but Frank felt quickly at ease with them. 
As a rule, the new acquaintances he had made in busi- 
ness farther east seemed to expect him to recognize their 
superiority, or, at least, to understand that it was a priv- 
ilege to be admitted into their society. His present 
companions, however, somehow made it plain that as 
long as he was willing to be commonly civil there was 
no reason why they should not get on well together, 


8 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


for which he was thankful, though he felt that any 
attempt to put on airs with them would probably lead to 
trouble. 

“ How far i 3 it to your father's ranch ? " he asked 
presently. 

“ Twelve miles," responded Harry. “ With a head 
wind like this one, it means from eighteen to twenty- 
four miles’ sailing. It depends, for one thing, on Jake’s 
steering." 

“ Thirty, sure," broke in the helmsman, “ if you had the 
tiller." 

“How’s that?" asked Frank. 

“ Know anything about sailing?" 

Frank confessed his ignorance, and Jake nodded to 
Harry. 

“ Show him," he said. “ He has got to learn and you 
can teach the fellow who’ll allow he doesn’t know any- 
thing. The kind we’ve no use for is the one that knows 
too much." 

Harry laid a wet finger on the hove-up weather deck. 

“ Now," he began, “ a boat or a ship under sail can 
go straight to the place she’s bound for as long as she 
has the wind anywhere from right behind her to a little 
forward on her side. In fact, as she’ll lie up within a 
few points of the wind, there’s only a small segment 
of the circle you can’t sail her straight into." 

He traced a circle on the deck and then placed his 
finger over about a quarter of the circumference of it. 

“ She won’t go there." 

“ But supposing you want to ? " 

“ Then, if the wind’s ahead, you have to beat." He 
drew two lines across the circle at right angles to each 
other and laid his finger at the end of one. “ Say we’re 
here at north and the cove we’re going to lies about 
south. Well, you get your sheets in flat — same as we 
have them now — and you sail up this way, at this angle 
to the wind." He ran a slanting line across the circle 


FRANK GOES WEST 


9 


until it touched the rim. “ That brings you here ; then 
you come round, and go off at the same angle on the 
opposite tack, which brings you right up to the cove. 
You can do it in two long tacks, or — and it’s the same 
thing — in a lot of little ones, each at the same angle to 
the wind ; but how many degrees there are in that angle 
and when you get there depends on how your sails are 
cut and how smart you are at steering her.” 

Frank understood the gist of it, but there were one 
or two difficulties, and he was not ashamed to ask a 
question : 

“What makes her go slantways against the wind? 
Why doesn’t it blow her back, or sideways?” 

“ It does,” Jake broke in dryly, “ if you don’t sail her 
right, or it blows hard enough.” 

“ What makes a kite go up slantways against, or on, the 
wind, which is the same thing in sailing?” continued 
Harry. “ Because with the wind and the string both 
pulling her, that’s the line of least resistance.” He 
paused, and added deprecatingly, “ I was at school at 
Tacoma and as I’d a notion I might take up surveying, 
they pounded some facts into me that made this kind 
of thing easier to get hold of. A boat goes ahead 
on the wind because, considering the shape of her, it’s 
the easiest way; and this is what stops her going off 
sideways to lee.” He kicked a high narrow box which 
ran along the middle of the boat. “ It holds the center- 
board — a big plate that’s down deep in the water now. 
Before the wind could shove her off sideways — and it 
does a little — it would have to press that flat plate 
sideways through the water.” 

Frank made a sign of comprehension. 

“ That’s about the size of it,” said Jake. “ Now I 
guess it would be more useful if you got som$ of the 
water out of her.” 

Harry, who explained that there was something wrong 
with the pump, pulled up one of the flooring boards and 


10 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


invited Frank to dip a bucket into the cavity and hand 
it up to him when it was full. Frank endeavored to do 
so, but found it difficult, for the water which surged to 
and fro as the sloop plunged left the bottom of the hole 
almost dry one moment and the next came splashing 
back so rapidly that before he could get a fair scoop 
with the bucket it had generally gone again. Besides, 
the motion every now and then flung him off his knees ; 
but he toiled on with his head down for nearly half an 
hour, when a horrible nausea mastered him and he stag- 
gered to the foam-swept lee coaming. For the next ten 
minutes he felt desperately unhappy, and when he turned 
around again there was a grin on the faces of his com- 
panions. 

“ She’ll do,” said Harry. “ You want to look to 
weather and get the wind on your face. That’s the 
best way to keep a hold on your dinner.” 

Frank suddenly remembered that he had had no din- 
ner. He had had only a dollar or two left in his pos- 
session, and after considering the steamboat tariff he 
had decided to dispense with the meal. In spite of this 
fact and the unpleasant sensations he felt, he was con- 
scious of a certain satisfaction with his new surroundings. 
The seasickness would pass, and grappling with the 
winds of heaven and the charging seas seemed a finer 
thing than adding up the price of flour or sticking stamps 
on letters. Here man’s skill, nerve and quickness were 
pitted against the variable elements, and Frank had a 
suspicion — which, as it happened, was quite justified — 
that if Jake made a blunder the next white-topped comber 
would come foaming across the bows of the craft. It 
was only his cool judgment and ready hand on the tiller 
that swung her safely over them. 

Raising himself a little he glanced ahead. The steamer 
and her smoke trail had vanished some time ago, and 
the white Olympians had faded, too. Evening was draw- 
ing on. The sky was now a dismal, dingy gray, and the 


FRANK GOES WEST 


11 


leaden-blue water was streaked with flecks and curls 
of foam. It seemed to him that the sea was steadily 
getting higher, and there was not the least doubt that 
the sloop was slanting more sharply and throwing the 
spray all over her. 

“It looks bad up yonder, doesn’t it?” he queried in 
anxious tones. 

“ I allow we might have more wind by and by,” Jake 
answered laconically. “ Seems to me she has about all 
the sail she can stand up to on her now.” 

He had scarcely finished speaking when a comber 
curled over at its top rose up close ahead, and the boat 
went into it to the mast. Part of it poured over the 
forward head ledge into the open well, and the rest 
sluiced foaming down the slanted deck to lee, through 
which she lurched clear, with the water splashing and 
gurgling inside her. 

“ We’ll heave another reef down right away,” said 
Jake. “ Get forward, Harry, and claw that headsail 
off her.” 

The boy seized a wet sail that lay in the well, and as 
he crawled forward with it the sloop rose almost up- 
right, with her mainsail banging and thrashing furiously. 
When he loosed a rope the jib ran partly down its stay, 
and then jammed, filling out and emptying with sudden 
shocks that shook the stout spar beneath it and the 
reeling mast. Harry, however, crawled out on the 
bowsprit with his feet braced against a wire — a lean, 
dripping figure that dipped in the tumbling seas — and 
Frank, seeing that he was struggling vainly with the sail, 
scrambled forward to help him, sick as he was. Water 
flowed about his knees on the plunging deck, flying 
ropes whipped him, and the spray was hurled into his 
face, but he could think of no reason why the Western 
boy should do more than he could. He crouched down, 
hauling savagely on a rope at which Harry pointed, and 
by and by the sail fell upon both of them. They dragged 


12 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


it in, made it fast, and set a smaller one in place of it, 
after which they floundered aft to where Jake was 
struggling with the mainsail. 

He had hauled down what Frank afterward learned 
was the leach of it, and was now standing with his 
toes on the coaming and his chest upon the boom, pulling 
down the hard, drenched canvas and tying the little bits 
of rope that hung in a row from it around the boom. 

“ Hustle ! ” he shouted. “ Get those reef-points in ! ” 

Frank took his place with his companion, and tried 
not to look at the frothing water close beneath him as 
he leaned out on the jerking boom. For the most part, 
the big spar lay fairly quiet, but now and then the can- 
vas above it shook itself with a bang. It cost him a 
strenuous effort to drag each handful of it down in 
turn, and he discovered afterward that he had broken 
two of his nails. He lost his breath, the perspiration 
started from every pore in his skin, and he was sick 
and dizzy, but he managed to hold on. At last it was 
finished, and soon afterward Jake, driving the sloop on 
her course again, turned to Harry. 

“ She’ll make nothing of ; it against this breeze,” he 
said. “ We’ll up-helm and look for shelter under Tour- 
malin.” 

Harry, bracing himself against the strain, let a rope 
run through the clattering blocks, the bow swung around, 
and the motion became a little easier. 

“ We’ll be snug beneath the pines in an hour,” said 
Jake, nodding reassuringly. 

Frank found the time quite long enough. He was wet 
and dizzy, and the way the big frothing ridges came 
tumbling up out of the growing darkness was rather 
terrifying. They heaved themselves up above the boat, 
and every time that one foamed about her she slanted 
alarmingly over to leeward. At last, when it had grown 
quite dark, a shadowy blur that grew into a wisp of tall 
pines rose up ahead, and a minute or two later there 


FRANK GOES WEST 


IS 


was an almost bewildering change from the rolling and 
plunging as the sloop ran into smooth water. Her sails 
dropped, the anchor chain rattled out, and by and by 
they were all sitting in the little cabin, which was scarcely 
three feet high, and Jake was cramming bark and kero- 
sene rags into the stove. 

Half an hour later Frank forced himself to eat a little 
canned beef and drink some coffee, and then Harry told 
him he could lie down on what seemed to be a mod- 
erately dry sail. He had scarcely done so when he fell 
asleep. Jake, who had been watching him, turned the 
lantern so that the light fell on his face. 

“ He was mighty sick,” he observed, a kindly smile 
lighting up his rugged features, “ but he stayed with it 
through the reefin’. Your father should make some- 
thing of him. I guess he’ll do.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE BUSH 

F RANK awoke a little before daylight, feeling con- 
siderably better. The nausea and dizziness had 
gone, and the sloop seemed to be lying almost still, which 
was a relief to him. Then he noticed by the light of a 
lamp that his companions’ places were empty, and pres- 
ently he heard them talking in the well. Crawling out 
through the narrow doorway, he stood up shivering in 
the coldness of the dawn. 

There were dim black trees and shadowy rocks close 
in front of him, with a white wash about the latter, for 
a smooth swell worked in around a point from open 
water. He could hear the rumble of the surf upon the 
reefs, and though he could scarcely feel a breath of 
wind upon his face the wailing of the black pines sug- 
gested that it was blowing still. He could smell the clean 
resinous scent of them and it seemed to him that they 
were singing wild, barbaric songs. Afterward, when he 
knew them better, he learned that the pines and their 
kin, the cedars and balsams and redwoods, are never 
silent altogether. Even when their fragrance steals out 
heavy and sweet as honey under the fierce sunshine of 
a windless day, one can hear faint elfin whisperings 
high up among their somber spires. Then he saw that 
Jake was standing on the side deck, apparently gazing 
at the white surf about the end of the point. 

“ No,” he mused, “ she wouldn’t face it. The breeze 
hasn’t fallen any, and the sea’ll be steeper. Guess you’d 
better leave me here, and take the Indian trail.” 

Harry agreed with this. 


14 


THE BUSH 


15 


“We’ll get off as soon as we’ve had breakfast; and, 
as I did the cooking yesterday, it’s your turn this morn- 
ing. There’s still a little fire in the stove.” 

Jake disappeared into the cabin, and presently came 
out again and was filling his pipe when Harry sprang 
up suddenly on the deck. 

“ Hello ! ” he cried. “ There’s a schooner yonder ! ” 

It was growing a little clearer and Frank, turning 
around, saw a tall black spire of canvas cutting against 
the sky. He made out a frothy whiteness beneath it 
where the swell broke on the vessel’s bows, and the 
sight of her singularly stirred his imagination. She had 
appeared so suddenly, probably from behind the point, 
and she looked ghostly in the uncertain light. She ran 
in under her headsails and boom-foresail with her main- 
mast bare, rising higher and growing clearer all the 
while. By and by there was a splash, and a voice broke 
through the wailing of the trees. 

“ Three fathom,” it said. “ You can luff her in a 
little.” 

Harry seemed about to hail her, but Jake gripped his 
arm, and they all stood silent while the schooner crept 
up abreast of them. The little sloop, lying with the 
shadowy land close behind her, had evidently not been 
seen. Then the vessel commenced to fade again, and 
in a few minutes she had vanished altogether. 

“ It looks as if there might have been some truth in 
old Sandberg’s tale,” Harry remarked thoughtfully. 
“ It’s kind of curious that halibut fisherman from Ban- 
nington’s said he saw her too.” 

“ He said she’d a white stripe round her. Sandberg 
allowed it was green,” objected Jake. 

“ That wouldn’t prove anything. They could soon 
paint the stripe another color.” 

“What would they want to do it for?” 

“ What does a schooner want running in here ? There’s 
no freight to be picked up nearer than Port Townsend.” 


16 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ That/’ said Jake dryly, “ is just what I don’t know. 
What’s more, I don’t want to. She might have run in 
for bark for cooking, or maybe for water.” 

Harry laughed. “ If she has come down from Seattle 
they’d get plenty cordwood or, if they wanted it, stove 
coal there, and I guess a skipper wouldn’t waste a fair 
wind like this one to save two or three dollars. The 
thing’s mighty curious. That vessel’s been seen twice, 
anyway, and nobody seems to know where she comes 
from or where she goes.” 

“ Well,” Jake observed stolidly, “ she doesn’t belong 
to you or me, and if you want your breakfast it should 
be ready.” 

They crawled into the cabin, and when they had made 
a meal Jake sculled the sloop in near enough to the steep 
beach for them to jump. Then he flung a small packet 
after them. 

“ It’s the most I can spare you, as I mayn’t get a 
slant round the reefs until to-morrow,” he said. “ Any- 
way, it will do you two meals, and you ought to fetch 
the ranch by sundown. You want to head right up the 
valley until you strike a big log that lies across the 
river. When you get over, cross the neck of the ridge 
where it’s lowest. You’ll see the clearing from the top 
of it.” 

Harry said this was plain enough and moved away 
across the shingle, Frank following him cautiously when 
they reached the fringe of driftwood which divided beach 
from bush. Whitened logs and barked branches were 
scattered about in tangled confusion where the water 
had left them, and it was with difficulty that the lads 
scrambled over the barrier. Then Frank stopped breath- 
less, with one leg wet to the knee and a rent in his 
trousers. 

“ It’s pretty rough going, if this is an average sample,” 
he panted. 


THE BUSH 


17 


“ You’ll find it a good deal worse before we reach the 
ranch,” Harry answered with a laugh. 

He strode forward, and Frank looked around with 
wonder when they plunged into the bush, for he had 
never seen a wood of that kind except in pictures of 
the giant Californian Sequoia. There are, of course, 
pines in the eastern states, but they seemed pigmies 
by comparison with these tremendous conifers which 
were already tall and stately when Columbus sailed from 
Spain. They ran up far above the boy in huge cylin- 
drical columns before they flung out their first great 
branches, which met and crossed like the ribs of high- 
vaulted arches, holding up a roof of dusky greenery. 
Beneath, there was a dim shadow, and a tangle of such 
luxuriant vegetation as is seen, excepting in the tropics, 
probably only upon the warm, damp Pacific Slope. 

The& was another difference which struck Frank. 
The eastern woods that he had seen were clear of 
wreckage, for lumber and fuel are valuable there, and 
the ax had kept them clean, but this forest was strewn 
with huge logs and branches, some of which evidently 
had fallen years ago. Thickets of all kinds had sprung 
up between, and these were filled with tufts of unrolling 
fern which Harry told him would grow six or eight feet 
high. Through the midst of it all there twisted a 
narrow path which Frank remembered Jake had men- 
tioned as the Indian trail. 

“ Have you Indians here ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Harry, “ we have a few Siwashes, 
though there are more of them up in Canada. They 
seem fond of Indians there.” 

“Are they quiet?” 

Harry chuckled. “ You don’t want to get them mixed 
with the redskins of the plains, though I suppose where 
they’re not wiped out they’re pretty quiet too. These 
fellows are a different breed. Most of them are sailors 


18 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


and fishermen, and they dress much the same as you' 
and I do. They come up these rivers now and then 
after the salmon, and they made this trail. You can 
tell that by the looks of it.” 

“ How?” 

“ It goes in and out, and where there’s an obstacle 
it winds around. That’s the difference between a white 
man’s and an Indian’s nature. The Siwash strikes a 
big fir log, and he walks around it, if he has to keep 
on doing it for months. It doesn’t seem to worry him 
that he’s wasting a minute or two every time. Then 
the white man comes along and gets to work with his 
ax. He goes right straight through. It’s born in him.” 

Frank had made a sign of understanding. He knew 
something of the history of the old great nations as 
well as that of his own country, and he remembered 
another dominant race that ages ago blazed its trails 
from Rome across all Europe and far into Asia. It was 
characteristic of those men that, turning aside for no ob- 
stacle, they went straight, and long after their power 
had perished their roads remained, running, as the crow 
flies, through morasses and over mountains and rivers. 
His own people had done much the same, whittling west 
with the axes through the eastern woods, and then push- 
ing on with their wagons across the lonely plains, until 
they drove the steel track through the snow-clad Rockies 
and over the Sierras. They died in shoals on the jour- 
ney, but it was the march of a nation, and always more 
came on, the lumberman after the trapper, the track- 
grader on the cowboy’s heels, with ranches and farms 
and factories growing up along the line. Now they had 
reached the Pacific, and Frank wondered vaguely whether 
that would be the limit, or where they were going then. 
It was, however, a question that seemed too big for him. 

“ This country’s rough on one’s clothes,” he said rue-^ 
fully, looking down at a second tear in his trousers. 


THE BUSH 


19 


Harry laughed. He was dressed in old duck overalls, 
long boots, and a battered gray hat. 

“ That’s a fact. What you want to wear is leather. 
There were two sports from back East came out to 
hunt last fall, and they had their things made of some 
patent cloth warranted to turn water and resist any 
thorns. Jake went along to cook for them.” He paused 
with a chuckle and added, “ They were wearing their 
blankets because they hadn’t any clothes left when he 
brought them back.” 

They went on for an hour or so until they came out 
upon the bank of a frothing river which roared among 
the rocks in a shallow canon. There was no way of 
reaching the water, had they desired it, and, as Harry 
had predicted, the trail the followed grew rapidly worse. 
In places it wound perilously along narrow ledges be- 
neath a dripping wall of rock, in others it led over banks 
of stones which had slipped down from the heights above. 
The boys made very slow progress until noon, when they 
stopped for a meal from the package Jake had thrown 
them. While they ate it Frank looked down again at 
his boots, which were already badly ripped. 

“ They were new just before I left Winnipeg,” he 
said. “ In some ways the people in Europe are ahead 
of us. There are one or two countries where they make 
their shoes of wood.” 

Harry was too busy to make an answer, and when 
he had finished eating he carefully tied up the packet, 
which was now considerably smaller, before he turned 
to his companion. 

“ We’d better be hitting the trail,” he said. “ Unless 
we can make the ranch by sundown, we’ll get mighty little 
supper.” 

They pushed on for a couple of hours, still floundering 
and stumbling among the rocks. Harry stopped for a 
moment where the bush was thinner and pointed to a 


20 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


big gap in a ridge of hillside three or four miles away. 

“ That’s the neck,” he said. “ The log we cross the 
river on is somewhere abreast of it. We surely can’t 
have passed the thing.” 

They went on a little farther, but there was no sign 
of the log. Presently Harry stopped again with an 
exclamation, catching a glimpse of a great branchless 
fir which rose out of a welter of foam in the bottom of 
the canon. 

“ There she is,” he exclaimed, “ jammed in where we 
certainly can’t get down to her. It will be difficult to 
go straight this time, but we’ll have to try.” 

Frank drew a pace or two nearer the edge of the 
canon, and felt a creepy shiver run through him as he 
looked down. The rock he stood upon arched out a 
little over the shadowy hollow, through the bottom of 
which the wild waters seethed and clamored. He sup- 
posed that he stood at least sixty feet above them. The 
rock on the opposite side also projected, so that the rift 
was wider at the bottom than at the top. In one place, 
however, the crest of it had broken away and plunged 
into the gulf, leaving a short slope down which stones 
and soil had slid. Its lower edge lay about twelve feet 
beneath him, though the distance would have been rather 
less if it could have been measured horizontally. 

“ How are we to get across ? ” he asked hesitatingly. 

“ Jump,” said Harry curtly. “ Can’t you do it?” 

“ No,” Frank answered with some reluctance. 

“ Scared ? ” asked Harry, looking at him curiously. 

“ I am, but it’s not that altogether.” 

“You didn’t seem to want sand when you jumped 
into the boat.” 

Frank stood silent a moment or two with a flush on 
his face. Had he been forced to make the choice a 
year earlier, he probably would have jumped and chanced 
it from shame of appearing afraid or of owning his 


THE BUSH 


21 


inferiority to another, but he had learned a little sense 
since then. 

“ It was different then,” he explained. “ I was scared 
— badly scared — but I felt I could do the thing if I 
forced myself to it. Now I'm almost certain that I 
can't.” 

“ Yes,” owned Harry, thoughtfully, “ that’s quite right. 
One hasn’t much use for the fellow whose great idea 
is to keep himself from getting hurt, but when a thing’s 
too big for you it’s best to own it.” He dismissed the 
subject with a wave of his hand. “ The question is how 
we’re going to get across, and my notion is that we’d 
better head right up into the bush. The river will be get- 
ting smaller, and it forks somewhere. Each branch will 
probably be only half the size, and I guess the canon 
can’t go on very far.” 

It occurred to Frank that considering the nature of 
the country it would be singularly inconvenient if the 
canon went on for another league or two, particularly 
as they had only a handful of provisions left, but he 
followed his companion, and they stumbled and floun- 
dered forward all the afternoon. There was now no 
trail to follow, and where they were not forced to 
scramble over slippery rock, fallen trees and thorny 
brakes barred their way. Still, there was nothing to 
indicate that the canon was dying out, and where they 
could have reached the water it either foamed furiously 
between rocky ledges or spun round in horrible black 
eddies on the verge of a wild, yeasty turmoil. They 
looked at these spots and abandoned any thought of 
swimming. 

Evening came at length, and they sat down beneath a 
big cedar where the roar of the river rang about them 
in deep pulsations. A chilly wind was wailing in the 
tops of the pines, and trails of white mist commenced 
to drift in and out among their trunks, which showed 


22 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


through it spectrally. Harry gazed about him with a 
rueful grin on his face. 

“If I’d an ax, one or two matches, and a couple of 
blankets, I’d make you quite snug. Then with a few 
groceries, a kettle, and a spider, we’d have all any one 
could reasonably want.” 

“ You haven’t got them,” Frank commented. 
“ Wouldn’t it save time if you wished for a furnished 
house ? ” 

“ I’d ’most as soon have an ax. Then I could make 
a shelter that would, anyway, keep us comfortable 
enough, and when I’d cut you a good layer of spruce 
twigs you wouldn’t want a better bed. If I’d a rifle I 
might get a blue grouse for supper. Still ” — and he 
laughed — “as you say, we haven’t got them, and we 
couldn’t do any cooking without matches. Curious, 
isn’t it, what a lot of things you want, and that in most 
cases you have to get another fellow to make them?” 

Frank agreed with this, but he had never realized 
the truth of it as he did just then. It was clear that the 
man who made all he wanted must live as the Indians 
or grosser savages did, and that it was only the division 
of employments that provided one with the comforts of 
civilization. Every man, it seemed, lived by the toil 
of another, for while on the Pacific Slope they turned 
the forests into dressed lumber and raised fruit and 
wheat, the clothes they wore, and their saws and plows 
and axes, came from the East. One could clear a ranch 
on Puget Sound only because a host of other men 
puddled liquid iron or pounded white-hot steel in the 
forges of, for instance, Pennsylvania. Frank would very 
much have liked to provide his companion with the fruit 
of somebody else’s labor in the shape of a few matches, 
which would have made a cheerful fire possible. 

In the meanwhile Harry had opened the packet and 
divided its contents equally. 


THE BUSH 


23 

“ There’s not enough to keep any over,” he observed. 
“ We have got to make the ranch to-morrow.” 

They ate the little that was left them, and then set 
to work to search for a young spruce from which they 
might obtain a few branches, but they failed to find 
one small enough even to climb. Coming back they 
lay down among the cedar sprays, which seemed rather 
wet, and it was some time before Frank could go to 
sleep. He was still hungry, and the roar of the river 
and the strangeness of his surroundings had a peculiar 
effect on him. The mist, which was getting thicker, 
rested clammily on his face, and crawled in denser 
wreaths among the black trunks which stood out here 
and there from the encircling gloom. Drops of mois- 
ture began to fall upon him from the branches, and 
once or twice he cautiously moved an elbow until it 
touched his companion. It was consoling to feel that 
he was not alone. 

At length, however, he fell asleep, and awaking in 
the gray light of dawn staggered to his feet when Harry 
called him, feeling very miserable. He was chilled to* 
the bone. His shoulders ached, his knees ached, and 
one hip-joint ached worse than all, while his energy and 
courage seemed to have melted out of him. As a mat- 
ter of fact, nobody unused to it feels very animated on 
getting up before sunrise from a bed on the damp 
ground. 

“ As we have to reach home to-night, we may as well 
get a move on,” announced Harry. “ It’s about four 
o’clock now, and it won’t be dark until after eight.” 

The prospect of a sixteen hours’ march with nothing 
to eat all the while did not appeal to Frank. It was 
the first time in his life that he had felt downright hungry, 
and this fast had made him the more sensitive to an 
unpleasant pain in his left side. 

“ If you’re not sure about the way, wouldn’t it be 


24 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

better if we went back to Jake?” he suggested. “It 
seems a pity we didn’t think of it earlier.” 

“ I did,” Harry answered smilingly. “ The trouble 
is that Jake would clear out the minute the wind dropped 
a little or shifted enough to let him get round the head. 
Besides, he’d have mighty little to eat if he were still 
lying behind the point when we got there. When your 
letter reached us we’d hardly time to run down to Ban- 
nington’s to meet the steamer, so I just grabbed what 
I could find, and we sailed in a few minutes.” 

Frank said nothing further, and they pushed on dog- 
gedly into the shadowy bush. It was wrapped in a thick 
white mist, and every brake they smashed through 
dripped with moisture. Except for the clamor of the 
river, everything was wonderfully still — so still, indeed, 
that the heavy silence was beginning to pall upon Frank, 
who suddenly turned to his companion. 

“ Isn’t there anything alive besides ourselves in this 
bush ? ” he asked. 

“ That,” replied Harry, “ is more than I can tell you. 
We have bears, and a few timber wolves, besides two 
kinds of deer and several kinds of grouse, and some 
of them are quite often about, but there are belts of 
bush where for some reason you can’t find one.” 

They went on again, following up the river for an 
hour or two. In the meanwhile the mist melted, and 
Frank could see the endless ranks of mighty trees stretch 
away before him until they merged into a blurred co- 
lumnar mass. At last the canon, which was growing 
shallower, forked off into two branches, and they fol- 
lowed one branch until a broken rocky slope led them 
down to the water. It was a dull greenish color and 
foamed furiously past them among great stones. There 
was no means of ascertaining how deep it was and the 
boys looked at each other dubiously for a moment or 
two. Then Harry made a little gesture. 

“We have to get across,” he said. 


THE BUSH 


25 


Frank, without waiting for his resolution to fail him, 
plunged in on the instant, and a couple of steps took 
him well above his knees. The water seemed icy cold. 
As a matter of fact, it was mostly melted snow, and the 
drainage from the glaciers had given it the curious green 
color. The gravel commenced to slide away beneath 
Frank’s feet, and by the time the foam was swirling 
round his waist he was gasping and struggling savagely. 
There was a big, eddying pool not far away and, though 
he could swim a little, he had no desire to be swept into 
it. A moment or two later he was driven against a rock 
with a violence that shook all the breath out of him. 
He clung to it desperately until Harry came floundering 
by and held out his hand. They made a yard or two 
together and then Harry slipped suddenly, jerking Frank 
off his feet as he rolled over in the flood. Frank went 
down overhead and as he felt himself being swept along 
toward the eddy he exerted all his energy in a struggle 
to regain his footing. He clutched at a rock, but the 
swirling waters only carried him past. Half dazed and 
breathless he was flung against another rock. This time, 
with a great effort, he managed to hold on, and when he 
stood up, gasping, he found that the water now reached 
only to his knees. In another minute he and Harry 
were safe on dry land. 

Half an hour later they crossed the other creek, and 
soon afterward Frank sat down limply in the warm 
sunlight, which at last came filtering between the thinner 
trees. 

“ I must have a rest,” he gasped. 

“ There’s just this trouble,” Harry pointed out. “ If 
you rest any time you won’t want to get up again.” 

“If I go on now I’ll drop in another few hundred 
yards,” declared Frank. 

It was probably no more than the truth. He had 
been clever at athletics and open air games, but, as it 
happened, he had been able to learn them easily. Be- 


26 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


sides, he had been indulged by his mother and had been 
rather a favorite at school, and as one result of it he 
fell short of the hardihood usually acquired by the boy 
who has everything against him. After all, an hour’s 
exercise in a gymnasium or an hour and a half spent 
over a game amidst applause and excitement is a very 
different thing from the strain of unrelaxing effort that 
must be made all day when there is nobody to cheer. 
He did not want to rest, but his worn-out body rebelled 
and mastered him. 

“ Aren’t — you — played out? ” he stammered weakly. 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Harry with a grin. “ Still, in this 
country you’re quite often dead played out and have to 
go on again.” 

“ But if you can’t?” 

“ Then,” said Harry dryly, “ you have to keep on try- 
ing until you’re able to.” 

It struck Frank that this might be painful and his 
heart sank. After a while he tried another question: 

“ Don’t people get lost in the bush every now and 
then?” 

“ Why, yes,” was the answer. “ There was a man 
strayed off from a picnic just outside one of the cities 
not long ago and they didn’t find him until a month or 
two afterward. He was lying dead not a mile from a 
graded road.” 

Frank shivered inwardly at this. 

“ Still, I suppose you generally have something to guide 
you — the moss on the north side of the trees? I’ve 
heard that people who don’t know about it walk around 
in rings.” 

“ I must have gone pretty straight the only time I 
was lost,” laughed Harry ; “ and it’s mighty hard to 
find moss in some parts of the bush. In others it’s all 
around the trees. I’d rather have a big peak as a guide. 
You have heard about people walking round, but I won- 
der whether you have heard that when they’re badly 


THE BUSH 


27 


scared they’ll walk right across a trail without seeing 
it?” 

“Is that a fact?” Frank asked in astonishment. 

“ Sure 1 ” said Harry. “ A lost man will sometimes 
walk across a logging road without the slightest idea 
that he’s doing it. Anyway, I know where the home- 
stead lies. It’s only a question of holding out until we 
reach it.” 

Frank was sincerely pleased to hear this, and by and 
by he rose with an effort and they went on again. 


CHAPTER III 


THE RANCH 

D USK was not far away when the boys, stumbling 
down a low hillside, came into sight of an oblong 
clearing in the forest with a wooden house standing 
on one side of it. That was all Frank noticed, for he 
found it difficult to keep himself on his feet, and his 
sight seemed hazy. Indeed, he fell down once or twice 
in the steeper places, and had some trouble in getting 
up; and after that he had only a confused recollection 
of crossing an open space and entering a dwelling. A 
man shook hands with him, and a woman in a print 
dress made him sit down in a low chair before she set 
out a bountiful meal. Soon after he had eaten a con- 
siderable share of it Harry led him into a very little 
room where a bed like a shelf with a side to it was 
fixed against one wall. Five minutes later he was bliss- 
fully unconscious of his recent painful experience. 

The sun was streaming in through the window when 
he awoke, feeling wonderfully refreshed, and, dressing 
himself in some overalls which had been laid across the 
foot of his bed, he walked out into the larger general 
room. It had uncovered walls of logs and a very roughly 
boarded floor, and there seemed to be little in it besides 
a stove, a table and several chairs. 

A brown-faced man with a little gray in his hair sat 
at one end of the table and at the other end sat a woman 
resembling him and of about the same age. Harry, 
sitting between them, was apparently engaged in nar- 
rating their adventures. Frank, who took the place laid 
out for him, found that his supper had not spoiled his 
28 


THE RANCH 


29 


breakfast, for he fell upon the pork, potatoes, dried 
apricots, hot cakes and syrup with an excellent appetite. 
When the meal was over, the man led Frank into an- 
other room and filling his pipe asked him to sit down. 

“ We’d better have a talk,” he said. “ You can take 
the chair yonder.” 

Frank looked at him more closely when he sat down. 
Mr. Oliver, who was dressed in duck overalls, was 
rather spare in figure, though he looked wiry. His man- 
ner was quiet, and his voice was that of an educated 
man, but he had somewhat piercing gray eyes. 

“ I had a sincere regard for your father,” he began. 
“ On that account alone I should be glad to have you 
here; but first of all we had better understand each 
other. You mentioned that you had been in business 
in Minneapolis and afterward in Winnipeg. Didn’t 
you like it ? ” 

“ No, sir,” replied Frank, who felt that it would be 
wiser to answer carefully any questions this man might 
ask. “ Still, that wasn’t exactly why I gave it up, 
though ” — and he hesitated — “ to say I gave it up isn’t 
quite correct.” 

“If I remember, you called it being fired, in your 
letter,” Mr. Oliver suggested with a twinkle in his eyes. 
“What led up to that?” 

“ Slack trade in the last case. I’d like to think it 
was only the grudge a bullying clerk had against me in 
the other.” 

“Then, if you had been allowed, you would have 
stayed with the milling business, though you didn’t care 
for it?” 

“ Yes,” responded Frank. “ Anyway, I’d have stayed 
until I could have got hold of something I liked better.” 

Mr. Oliver nodded in a way which suggested that he 
was pleased with the answer. 

“ Well,” he said, “ that brings us to the question why 


SO BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


you came out here. Was it because you had heard that 
it was a good country for hunting and fishing ? ” 

Frank’s face flushed. “ No, sir,” he replied, “ I wanted 
to earn a living, and I understood that a ” — he was go- 
ing to say a live man, but thought better of it — “any 
one who wasn’t too particular could generally come across 
something to do quickest in the West. In fact, I’d like 
to begin at once. After buying my ticket and getting 
odd meals I’ve only two or three dollars left.” 

“ Two-fifty, to be precise. My sister took your clothes 
away to mend. Now, it’s possible that I might manage 
to get you into the office of some lumber or general trad- 
ing company in one of the cities. How would that do ? ” 

“ I’d rather go on to the land. I’d like to be a 
rancher.” 

“ How much do you know about ranching ? ” 

“ Very little, but I could soon learn.” 

It was Frank’s first blunder, and he realized it as he 
saw the gleam of amusement in Mr. Oliver’s eyes. 

“ It’s by no means certain,” commented the latter. 
“ There are men who can’t learn to use the ax in a life- 
time. We’ll let it go at that, and say you’re willing to 
learn. Have you any idea of making money by ranch- 
ing?” 

Frank thought a moment. “ Well,” he said finally, 
“ I’d naturally wish to make some, but I don’t think 
that counts for most with me. I’d rather have the kind 
of life I like.” 

“ The trouble with a good many men is that when 
they get it they find out they like something else. Quite 
sure that hunting and fishing aren’t taking too prominent 
a place in your mind? If they are, I’d better tell you 
that the favorite amusement in this country is chopping 
down big trees. There’s another fact that you must 
consider. It takes a good deal of money to buy a ranch 
and, unless it’s already cleared, you have to wait a long 
while before you get any of the money back. This 


THE RANCH 


31 


place cost me about nine thousand dollars, one way or 
another, and in all probability there’s not a business on 
the Pacific Slope in which I wouldn’t get twice as much 
as I’m getting here for the money, though I’ve been here 
a good many years. Now what do you expect to do 
with two dollars and a half?” 

What he had heard had been somewhat of a shock 
to Frank, and the question was difficult to answer. 

“ I might earn a little more by degrees, sir,” he said 
hopefully. 

Mr. Oliver smiled at him encouragingly. 

“ It’s possible ; and there’s cheaper land than mine, 
while a smart man used to the country can often get 
hold of a small contract of some kind. Now I’ll tell 
you what we’ll do. Wait a month, and then if you find 
that you like the life I’ll hire you for what anybody 
else would give you.” 

With that he arose, signifying that the discussion was 
over, and Frank went out of doors and joined Harry 
in the clearing. The latter held a big handspike with 
an arched iron hook hinged to it, and he invited Frank 
to assist him in rolling logs. 

“ It will give you some idea how a ranch is cleared,” 
he said. “ To begin with, you had better take a look 
around.” 

Frank did so and first of all noticed the rather rambling 
house, part of which was built of logs notched into one 
another at the ends, though the rest, which had evidently 
been added to it later, was of sawed lumber. It was 
roofed with what he fancied were red cedar shingles. 
On the other side of it, carefully fenced off with tall split 
rails, stood orderly ranks of trees, some in delicate pink 
and white blossom. Harry told him they were apples 
and prunes and peaches. Nearer him were one or two 
fields of timothy grass and fresh green oats, and then 
more of the latter growing among fern-engirdled stumps 
sawed off some six feet above the ground. Beyond 


32 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


them, in turn, half-burned branches were strewn among 
another stretch of stumps, then there was a narrow belt 
where great trees lately chopped lay in tremendous ruin, 
and behind them again the forest rose in an unbroken 
wall. 

“ Now,” explained Harry, “ you have the whole thing 
in front of you, if you’ll begin at the bush and work 
back toward the house. First you chop down the trees, 
then you burn them up and raise your first crop or two 
round the stumps. Afterward by degrees you grub up 
the stumps and get the clean, tilled land. When it’s been 
worked a few years it will grow almost anything.” 

“But where’s the stock?” Frank asked. “I had a 
notion that a ranch was a place where you raised no end 
of horses or cattle.” 

“ That’s on the plains,” laughed Harry. “ On this 
side of the Rockies it’s any piece of cleared land with 
a house on it. At quite a few of the ranches they raise 
nothing but fruit. As you asked the question, though, 
our cattle are in the bush. They run there and live on 
what they can find until we round them up. Now we’ll 
get to work.” 

He turned away after a pair of brawny oxen that 
were plodding leisurely across the clearing, and in a little 
while they halted on the edge of what Harry called the 
slashing. This was a belt of fallen timber which ran 
around most of the open space. As Frank gazed at the 
chaos of great trunks and mighty branches he felt in- 
clined to wonder how Mr. Oliver had managed to get 
them down. 

“ What will you do with these ? ” he asked. 

" Saw or chop off the bigger branches,” Harry an- 
swered. “ Then we’ll wait until the trunks are good 
and dry in the fall and put a fire to them. It will burn 
up all the small stuff, and leave them like this.” 

He pointed to the rows of blackened and partly burned 
logs which lay between the slashing and the half-cleared 


THE RANCH 


83 


soil, and Frank noticed that most of them had been 
sawed into several pieces. 

“ Couldn't you sell them for lumber ? ” he inquired. 

“ No,” replied Harry. “ For one thing, it’s quite a 
long way to the nearest mill and we’d have to build a 
skidway for a mile or two down to the water. Besides, 
in a general way, it’s only the redwood and red cedar 
that the mills have much use for.” 

Then he gave Frank a handspike that lay close by, 
and between them they prized up one end of a log so 
that he could slip a chain sling under it. The other end 
of the chain was attached to the yoke of the oxen, and 
when he called them the big white and red beasts hauled 
the log away until he stopped them and went back for 
another. Frank did not find much difficulty in this, but 
it was different when they had drawn six or seven of 
the logs together and laid them side by side. Harry 
said that the next lot must go on top of the others, and 
Frank was wondering how they were to get them there, 
when his companion laid two or three stout skids some 
distance apart against the first of the row. These, it 
was evident, would serve as short, slanting bridges, but 
Frank was still not clear as to how the next log could 
be propelled up them. 

When Harry brought it up he slipped the chain along 
toward its middle, though it cost the boys an effort to 
prize the mass up with their handspikes, after which he 
made one end of the chain fast on the opposite side of 
the row, around which he led the oxen. The other end 
he hooked to their yoke, so that it now led doubled 
across the row and around the trunk they wished to raise. 
He said that when the chain was pulled the log would 
roll up it. He next shouted to the oxen, who plodded 
forward straining at the yoke, while he and Frank 
slipped their handspikes under opposite ends of the log. 

“ Heave ! ” he cried. “ Send her up 1 ” 

Frank did his utmost, with the perspiration dripping 


34 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


from him and the veins on his forehead swelling, but 
the ponderous mass rolled very slowly up the skids, and 
several times he fancied it would drag the oxen back- 
ward and slide down on him. Indeed, for about half a 
minute it hung stationary, though Harry, who dared not 
draw out his handspike, shouted frantic encouragement 
to the straining beasts. Then it moved another inch or 
two, and one released skid shot up as though fired out 
of a gun when the log rolled upon the first of the pre- 
ceding ones. They worked it well across them, and 
then freeing the chain went back for another, though 
Frank’s arms felt as if they had been almost pulled out 
of their sockets. 

“ You want somebody to keep the oxen up to it as 
well as two to heave, when the logs are as big as these,” 
said his companion. “ Still, some of the small ranchers 
do the whole thing alone.” 

Frank could not help wondering what kind of men 
these were, but in the meanwhile he was obliged to bend 
all his thought on his difficult task, which grew heavier 
when, having ranged the logs in two layers, they com- 
menced the third. The skids were now too short to reach 
the top of the second tier without making the slope 
rather steep and Harry said that they must cut some new 
ones. A couple of axes lay close by, and handing one 
to Frank he strode into the bush and stopped in front 
of a young fir. 

“ The butt ought to make a skid,” he said. “ I’ll leave 
you to get it down and I’ll look for another. You do it 
like this.” 

Spreading his feet apart and balancing himself lightly, 
he swung the heavy, long-hafted ax above his head. The 
big blade, descending, buried itself in the trunk, and rose 
with a flash when he wrenched it clear. This time he 
struck horizontally and a neat wedge-shaped chip flew 
out. 


THE RANCH 


as 


“ Now,” he said, handing the ax to Frank, “ you can 
go ahead.” 

He turned away and Frank swung the ax experimen- 
tally once or twice. The thing looked easy. Whirling 
up the blade, he struck with all his might. It came 
down into the notch Harry had made, but it was the 
flat of it that struck, and, while the haft jarred his hands, 
the blade glanced and just missed his leg. This appeared 
somewhat extraordinary, and he was a little more cau- 
tious when he tried again. He hit the tree fairly this 
time, but almost a foot above the cut, and he was com- 
mencing to feel indignant when he dragged the steel out 
again, which in itself was not particularly easy. He 
then struck horizontally, but the blade did not seem to 
go in at all, and at the next attempt the ax buried itself 
in the soil, just grazing his boot. This steadied him, for 
he had no desire to lame himself for life. Shortening 
his hold upon the haft, he used it after the manner of 
a domestic chopper, until at length, when his hands were 
blistered and he was very hot, the tree went down with a 
crash. Then turning around he saw Harry watching 
him with a look of amusement. 

“Have you got yours down?” Frank asked. 

“ Oh, yes,” Harry replied, “ and another. I’ve chopped 
them through for skids.” He pointed to the hacked and 
splintered log. “ Looks as if something had been eating 
it, doesn’t it?” 

Frank’s face grew rather red. “You couldn’t expect 
me to drop into it all at once. Give me a week or two 
to pick up the swing and balance of it.” 

“ A week or two ! ” Harry seemed to address the 
clustering firs. “ They sure raise smart folks back East.” 

“How long were you learning?” retorted Frank. 

“ Well,” said Harry thoughtfully, “ you could call it 
most of twelve years. I used to go whittling with a toy 
tomahawk soon after I could walk. Of course, they 


$6 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


confiscated the thing now and then. Once it was after 
I’d just brought down a one-leg round table.” 

“ Did you ever cut yourself ? ” 

Harry rolled up his trousers and pointed to a big white 
mark below his knee. 

“ I could show you two or three more of them,” he 
commented dryly. “ There are quite a few bush ranchers 
who haven’t got all their toes on.” 

He cut a skid from the butt of the log, and when they 
went back to the pile the work which before had been 
hard now became more or less dangerous. They had to 
prize and sometimes shoulder up the ponderous masses 
of timber three-high, and Frank was far from feeling 
over the effects of the previous two-days’ march. Still, 
if his companion could manage it, he was determined 
that he could, and he toiled on, soaked in perspiration, 
straining and gasping over one of the heaviest tasks 
connected with clearing land, until to his vast relief Miss 
Oliver appeared in the doorway, jingling a cowbell as a 
signal that dinner was ready. 

They went back to work after the meal, and Frank 
somehow held out until the middle of the afternoon. 
It seemed very hot' in the clearing and the scorching 
sunrays beat down upon the back of his neck and shoul- 
ders. One of his horribly blistered hands commenced to 
bleed, he was almost afraid to straighten his back, and 
his arms were sore all over. At last as they were heav- 
ing up a heavy log it stuck just on the edge of the tier 
and Frank, who felt his breath failing him and his heart 
beating as though it would burst, could hear the oxen 
scuffling furiously on the other side of the pile. 

“ Heave ! ” Harry shouted. “ Another inch will land 
her!” 

“ I can’t ! ” Frank panted, with his hands slipping upon 
the lever. 

“Then look out!” warned Harry. “Let go of the 
thing and jump ! ” 


THE RANCH 


*7 

Frank did not remember whether he let go or whether 
the handspike was torn from his grasp, but he jumped 
backward as far as he could and staggered a few paces 
farther when he saw the big log rolling down after him. 
Then he fell headlong, there was a crash and a great 
trampling of hoofs, and he wondered whether the log 
would crush the life out of him. When he scrambled to 
his feet, however, it had stopped not far away; and in 
a few moments Harry appeared from behind the pile. 

“ It pulled the oxen backward right up to the logs,” 
he explained. Then he looked sharply at Frank. “We 
haven’t done badly for one day, and Aunt Sophy v/ants 
me to haul in some stovewood. You sit there and rest 
yourself awhile.” 

He went away with the oxen, and Frank was thankful 
to do as he was told, for his heart was heavy and he 
was utterly worn out. His hands were torn and blis- 
tered and the logs that he had partly lifted with his body 
had bruised his breast and ribs. If this was ranching, 
it was horrible work, and he felt that he would break 
down altogether if he attempted much more of it. It 
was nothing like his dream of riding through the bush 
on spirited horses after half-wild cattle. Then the trou- 
blesome question as to what he should do if he gave it 
up had to be faced. He had found that he had no apti- 
tude for business, and he had a suspicion that work 
would be quite as hard in a logging camp or in a saw- 
mill. It was clear that he could not go home, even if 
he had the money for his fare, which was not the case, 
and he felt very forlorn and miserable. 

In the meanwhile the twigs he lay upon were pleasantly 
soft, and it was cool and peaceful in the lengthening 
shadow of the firs. There was a curious rhythmic drum- 
ming sound which he found most soothing and which 
he afterward learned was made by a blue grouse not far 
away. The pungent smell of withering fir and cedar 
sprays in the slashing dulled his senses, until at last his 


$8 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


troubles seemed to melt away and he fancied that he 
was back in Boston where nobody had ever required him 
to heave ponderous logs upon one another. 

It was a couple of hours later when Mr. Oliver, walk- 
ing back that way with Harry, stopped and looked at the 
pile. 

“You have put all those up since this morning ?” he 
asked. 

Harry said that they had done so, and Mr. Oliver 
glanced down with a little smile at Frank, who lay fast 
asleep. 

“ It’s rather more than I expected. The lad must 
have done his share, but it might have been better if 
you had started him at something easier.” 

“ He stood it all right until a while ago, and I think 
he’d have seen me through if it hadn’t been for the 
walk yesterday. Shall we crosscut some of those 
branches to-morrow instead ? ” 

“ No,” replied Mr. Oliver after a moment’s reflection. 
“ It might be wiser to let him see the worst of it. If 
he stands a week’s logging there’s no doubt that he’ll 
do.” He paused a moment and looked down at Frank 
again. “ I don’t think he’ll back down on it. He’s 
very much like his father, as I remember him a good 
many years ago.” 

Then he laid his hand on Frank’s shoulder. 

“ Get up, boy. Supper’s ready.” 


CHAPTER IV 


TARGET PRACTICE 

T HE two boys spent most of the following week 
rolling logs and they were busy among them one 
hot afternoon when Mr. Oliver walked out of the bush 
nearby. As they did not immediately see him, he 
stopped and stood watching them in the shadow for a 
few minutes. Frank was feeling more cheerful by this 
time, though his hands were still very sore and, as a 
good many of the logs were burned on the outside, he 
was more or less blackened all over. He was getting 
used to the work, and Jake, who had arrived with the 
sloop in the meanwhile, relieved him and his companion 
of the heaviest part of it. Turning around presently 
at a sound, Frank saw Mr. Oliver smiling at him. 

“ If I were as grimy as you I think I’d go in for a 
swim,” he said. “ It’s hot enough, and there’s a nice 
beach not far away. I dare say Harry will go along 
with you while Jake and I put up these logs.” 

Harry lost no time in throwing down his handspike, 
and they set out together down a narrow trail through 
the woods, which led them out by and by upon a head 
above the cove in which the sloop lay moored. Standing 
on the edge of the crag, Frank looked down upon the 
clear, green water which lapped smooth as oil upon a 
belt of milk-white shingle and broke into little wisps 
of foam beneath the gray rocks at the mouth of the 
cove. Beyond this the sea flashed silver in the sunlight 
like a great mirror, except where a faint, fitful breeze 
traced dark blue streaks across it. Dim smudges of 
islands and headlands broke the gleaming surface here 
29 


40 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


and there, and high above it all was a cold white gleam 
of eternal snow. 

In a few minutes they had scrambled down a winding 
path, and Frank, stripping off his clothes, waded into 
the water abreast of the sloop which lay swinging gently 
about a dozen yards from the beach. 

“ Can you swim off to her? ” shouted Harry. 

Frank said that he thought he could, and set about 
it with a jerky breast stroke, for he was not very pro- 
ficient in the art. The water was decidedly cold and 
he was glad when he reached the sloop. Clutching her 
rail where it was lowest amidships he endeavored to 
pull himself out. To his disgust he found that his feet 
would shoot forward under the bottom of her, with the 
result that he sank back to the neck after each effort. 
When he had made two or three attempts he heard a 
shout : 

“ Hold on ! You’ll never do it that way.” 

Harry shot toward him, his limbs gleaming curiously 
white through the shining green water, though his face 
and neck showed a coffee-brown, as did his lower arms, 
which he swung out above his head, rolling from side 
to side at every stroke. He grasped Frank’s shoulder 
and pushed him toward the stern of the sloop. 

“ Now,” he said when he clutched it, “ there are just 
two ways of getting out of the water into a boat. If 
she has a flat stem you make for there and get your 
hands on the top of it spread a little apart. Then you 
heave yourself up by a handspring — though that isn’t 
very easy.” 

Frank smiled at these instructions, but said nothing. 
It was easy for him, because he had learned the trick in 
a gymnasium. Suddenly jerking down his elbows, which 
ever since he had grasped the stern were as high as 
his head, he shot his body up until his hands were down 
at his hips. Then, as his waist was level with the sloop’s 


TARGET PRACTICE 


41 


transom, he quietly crawled on board. Harry, however, 
had to make two or three attempts before he succeeded, 
and then he looked at his companion with undisguised 
astonishment. 

“ I’ve never done it right away yet,” he said admir- 
ingly. “Say, do you know how to dive?” 

“No,” replied Frank; “that is, Fve scarcely tried.” 

Harry led him forward where the boat’s sheer was 
higher and he could stand a couple of feet or so above 
the water. 

“ You only get half the fun out of swimming unless 
you can dive,” he said. “ Let’s see what kind of a show 
you make.” 

Frank stiffened himself and jumped. At least, that 
was what he meant to do, but as it happened, he merely 
threw himself flat upon the water, and the result was 
rather disconcerting. He felt as though all the breath 
had been knocked out of him, and in addition to this all 
the front of his body was smarting. He was about to 
swim toward the stern again when Harry stopped him. 

“Hold on!” he called. “You may as well learn the 
other way of getting out, and if she’s a sailing craft 
with a bowsprit it’s much the easiest one. Swim for- 
ward to the bow.” 

Frank did so and saw that a wire ran from the end of 
the bowsprit, dipping a little below the water where it 
was attached to the boat. He had no difficulty in get- 
ting his foot upon it, and after that it was a simple 
matter to crawl on board. His chest and limbs were still 
smarting and were very red when he joined Harry. The 
latter regarded him with a look of amusement. 

“ You’ll get hurt every time, if you dive like that,” 
he said. “ Look here,” and he stood up on the boat’s 
deck. “ You want to get your weight on the fore part 
of your feet all ready to shove off before you go. Then 
you must shoot as far forward as you can — falling on 


42 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


it won't do — and hollow your back and stiffen yourself 
once you’re under. That is, when you want to skim 
along just below the surface. Watch me.” 

Leaning forward a little he sprang out from the boat, 
a lithe, tense figure, with hands flung straight forward 
over his head. They struck the water first, and he 
went in with an impetus which swept him along scarcely 
a foot beneath the top. Then his speed slowly slack- 
ened and he had stopped altogether about a length of the 
boat away when he raised his head and swam back to 
her. 

“ You don’t want to try that in less than four feet 
until you’re sure you can do it right,” he said when he 
had climbed on board. “ The other kind of diving’s 
different.” Then, taking up a galvanized pin, he threw 
it in. " See whether you can fetch it. There’s about 
eight or nine feet of water here. You can open your 
eyes as soon as your head’s in, and you won’t have any 
trouble in coming up again. Jump, and throw your legs 
straight up as you go.” 

Frank managed this time not to drop in a heap as 
he had done before. He also opened his eyes under 
water for the first time and found it perfectly easy to 
see. It was like looking through green glass. He could 
make out the pin lying a long way down beneath him. 
It was, however, impossible to reach it. The water 
seemed determined on forcing him back to the top, and 
when he abandoned the struggle to get down he seemed 
to reach the surface with a bound. 

“ How far did I go ? ” he gasped. 

“ About six feet. It’s quite as far as I expected.” 

Harry plunged, and Frank, who had climbed out In 
the meanwhile, saw him striking upward with his feet 
until he turned and came up with a rush, holding the 
pin in one hand. Flinging it on board he headed for 
the beach and was standing on the shingle rubbing him- 
self with his hands when Frank joined him. 


TARGET PRACTICE 


43 


“ I guess you had two towels when you went swimming 
back East ? ” he laughed. 

Frank looked up inquiringly, acknowledging that he 
usually had taken one. 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ we have them at the homestead, 
but there are ranches in this country where you wouldn’t 
get even one.” 

“ No towels!” exclaimed Frank in some astonish- 
ment. “What do they use instead?” 

“ Some of them cut a very little bit off of a cotton 
flour bag. Those bags are valuable because they keep 
them to mend their shirts with. I’ve a notion that the 
other fellows sit in the sun.” 

Frank laughed and scrambled into his clothes after 
rubbing himself with his hands. He was commencing 
to realize that whether Harry was joking with him or 
not it was unavoidable that they should have different 
ways in different parts of so big a country. Indeed, 
now that he was some four thousand miles from Boston, 
he felt that instead of its being curious that the people 
were slightly different it was wonderful that they were 
so much the same. If one measured four thousand 
miles across Europe and Asia one would get Frenchmen 
at the one end and wild Cossacks or nomad Tartars at 
the other, with perhaps a score of wholly different na- 
tions, speaking different languages, between. 

They had an excellent appetite for supper when they 
went back to the ranch, and after the meal was over, 
Mr. Oliver took down a rifle from the wall. 

“ You can bring yours along, Harry,” he said, and 
then turned to Frank. “ In a general way, a rancher 
doesn’t get much time for hunting, and he seldom goes 
out for the fun of the thing, but an odd deer or grouse 
comes in handy now and then. Anyway, before you 
can hunt at all you must learn to shoot and you may as 
well begin.” 

“Dad’s a pot-hunter,” chuckled Harry. “At least, 


44 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


that’s what the two smart sports we had round here 
last fall said he was.” 

A gleam of amusement crept into his aunt’s eyes, 
but Mr. Oliver’s face contracted into a slight frown. 

“ Harry knows my views, but you had better hear 
them, too,” he said to Frank. “ I’m certainly what 
those fellows called a pot-hunter, though they very fool- 
ishly seemed to think that one ought to be ashamed of 
it. Most of the ranchers in this district take down the 
rifle only when they want something to eat, and that’s 
the best excuse there is for shooting. Is it a desirable 
thing to destroy a dozen harmless beasts for the mere 
pleasure of killing, and leave them in the bush for the 
wolves and eagles ? ” 

“ Don’t the game laws prevent that, sir?” Frank 
asked. 

“ They limit a man to so many head of this and that, 
and in a general way he brings no more out with him, 
but it doesn’t by any means follow that he hasn’t killed 
a bear or a deer that he doesn’t mention in some lonely 
ravine. The sport who hasn’t a conscience is as big a 
pest in a game country as the horn and hide hunter 
used to be, and we have to thank him for practically 
exterminating several of the finest beasts in North 
America.” 

“ Wouldn’t the clearing of virgin country and the way 
the farms and ranches spring up account for it? ” 

“ Only to some extent. It’s my opinion that there 
are more deer and bears about the smaller ranches than 
you could find anywhere else. All this is no reason why 
you shouldn’t learn to shoot; that is, to hit your game 
just where you want to and kill it there and then.” 

He walked out with his rifle and the boys followed 
him across the clearing. Here Harry fixed a piece of 
white paper about two feet square with a black dab in 
the middle of it on the trunk of a big fir, after which 
he came back to where the others were standing. 


TARGET PRACTICE 


45 


“ How far do you make it ? ” his father asked. 

“About a hundred yards.” 

Mr. Oliver now turned to Frank. 

“ As I think you told me you couldn’t shoot, I’ll give 
you a short lecture on the principles of the thing. When 
they’re after birds most men use a scatter gun. It will 
spread an ounce of shot — several hundred pellets — 
over a six-foot circle at a distance of about forty yards ; 
but the rifle is the great weapon of western America. 
Take this one and open the breach — now look up the 
barrel.” 

“ I can see little grooves twisting round it like a 
screw,” said Frank. 

“ That’s the rifling. It serves two purposes. The 
bullet — you use only one — has to screw round and 
round to get out, and that gives the explosion time to 
act upon it. 'It increases the muzzle velocity. Then 
it gives the bullet a rotary motion, and anything spin- 
ning on its axis travels very much straighter than it 
would do otherwise. It’s the twisting motion that keeps 
a top from falling over.” 

Frank could readily understand this, and he remem- 
bered what he had read about the gyroscope. 

“ Now,” continued Mr. Oliver, “ we have to consider 
the pull of the earth upon the bullet, which would bring 
it down, and to counteract this you have to direct it 
rather upward. The slight curve it makes before it 
reaches its mark is called the trajectory, and it naturally 
varies with the distance. You arrange it by the sights. 
There are two of them, one on the muzzle and one near 
the breach. The last one slides up and down like this. 
The farther off the mark is the higher it must go. As 
you have to get them both in line, it’s evident that 
pushing the back one up will raise the muzzle. You 
can understand that?” 

Frank said that he could, and Mr. Oliver pushed the 
rearsight down and snapped a lever. 


46 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ It’s cocked, though it hasn’t a shell in it. At a 
hundred yards or less the sight goes down about the 
limit.” He handed Frank the rifle. “ Stand straight, 
left foot a little to the left and forward — that will do. 
Now bring the rifle to your shoulder — left hand under 
the barrel near the rearsight, elbow well down, right 
hand round the small of the butt, thumb on the top. 
Try to hold it steady.” 

Frank found it difficult. The rifle was heavy and 
the muzzle seemed to want to drop, but Mr. Oliver 
stopped him when he let his left elbow fall in toward 
his side. 

“ Bring it down and wait a moment before you throw 
it up again,” he advised. 

Frank did so once or twice, and at length his instructor 
seemed satisfied. 

“ Now we’ll aim,” he said. “ Drop your left cheek 
on the stock — you’d better shut your left eye. Try to 
see the target through the hollow of the rearsight, with 
the front one right in the middle of it.” 

It seemed singularly difficult. The square of paper 
now looked exceedingly small and the sights would 
wobble across it. After several attempts, however, 
Frank got them comparatively steady. 

“ Put your forefinger on the trigger,” Mr. Oliver 
directed. “ Don’t pull, but squeeze it slowly and stead- 
ily, holding your breath in the meanwhile.” 

This was worst of all, for Frank found that he pulled 
the sight off the target when he tightened his forefinger. 
After he had made an attempt or two, Mr. Oliver told 
him to put the rifle down. 

“ See what you can do, Harry,” he said. 

“ Standing? ” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Oliver, turning to Frank again. 
“ Standing’s hardest, kneeling easier, and lying down 
easiest of all, but when you’re hunting in thick bush 
you generally have to stand.” 


TARGET PRACTICE 


47 


Harry slipped a shell into his rifle, and pitched it to 
his shoulder. It wobbled for a moment and then grew 
still. After that there was a spitting of red sparks from 
the muzzle, which suddenly jerked, followed by a sharp 
detonation. A second or two later there was a thud, 
and Harry laughed as he stood gazing at the mark while 
a little blue smoke curled out of the muzzle and the 
opened breach. ^ 

“ It’s well up on the left top corner,” he said. 

Frank was blankly astonished. He could certainly 
see the square of paper, but it seemed impossible that 
anybody could tell whether there was a mark on it. As 
a matter of fact, very few people who had not been 
taught how to use their eyes could have done so. 

Then Mr. Oliver took up his rifle, and Frank noticed 
that his whole body and limbs seemed to fall into the 
best position for holding it steady without any visible 
effort on the man’s part. The blue barrel did not seem 
to move at all until at length it jerked, and Harry grinned 
exultantly at Frank when a thin streak of smoke drifted 
past them. 

“ That’s the pot-hunter’s way. He’s about two inches 
off the center.” 

Mr. Oliver gave Frank the rifle, and this time he 
slipped in a shell. 

“If you can’t get the sights right bring it down,” he 
directed. “ Don’t dwell too long on your aim.” 

Frank held his breath and stiffened his muscles, but 
the foresight would wobble and the target seemed to 
dance up and down in a most exasperating manner. At 
length he pressed the trigger. He felt a sharp jar upon 
his shoulder, but to his astonishment he heard no report. 
After what seemed quite a long time there was a faint 
thud in the forest. 

“You’ve got something, but I guess it’s the wrong 
tree,” laughed Harry. 

After that Frank tried several shots, finally succeed- 


48 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


ing in hitting the tree a couple of feet above the mark. 
Mr. Oliver, who had taken out his pipe in the mean- 
while, nodded at him encouragingly. 

“ You only need to practice steadily,” he said. “ For 
the rest, anything that tends toward a healthy life will 
make you shoot well. Whisky and tobacco most cer- 
tainly won’t.” 

Harry’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at his father’s 
pipe. 

“ One of them hasn’t much effect on him. I don’t 
know whether I told you about the bag the two sports 
who were round here last fall nearly made. I got the 
tale from Webster on the next ranch.” 

Frank said that he would like to hear it, and Harry 
laughed. 

“ Well,” he began, “ Webster was sitting on a log in 
the bush just outside his slashing, looking around kind 
of sorrowful at the trees. It seemed to him they looked 
so big and nice it would be a pity to spoil them. When 
I’ve been chopping until my hands are sore I sometimes 
feel like that.” 

“ It doesn’t lead to riches,” interrupted his father 
dryly. 

“By and by,” Harry continued, “Webster heard a 
smashing in the underbrush. It kept coming nearer, but 
it wasn’t in the least like the sound a bear makes or a 
jumping deer. You don’t know they’re around unless 
they’re badly scared. Anyway, Webster sat still won- 
dering what it could be, until he saw a man crawling 
on the ground. He was coming along very cautiously, 
but you couldn’t have heard him more than half a mile 
away. By and by he disappeared behind a big tree, 
and as there hadn’t been a deer about for a week W ebster 
wondered if the man was mad, until there was a blaze 
of repeater firing in the bush. Then Fremont, his log- 
ging ox, came out of it like a locomotive and headed for 
the range so fast that Webster couldn’t see how he went. 


TARGET PRACTICE 


49 


He grabbed his logging handspike, and found a sport 
abusing another for missing in the bush. 

“‘What in the name of wonder are you after?’ he 
asked. 

“ ‘ We’ve been trailing a deer two hours/ one of them 
declared. ‘ A mighty big deer. Must have been an 
elk/ 

“ ‘ An elk, sure. I saw it/ added the other. 

“ ‘ There isn’t a blamed elk in the country/ said Web- 
ster. 

“‘You’ll see/ persisted the other. ‘I tell you I 
pumped the cylinder full into him.’ 

“‘Quite sure of that?’ Webster asked. 

“ The other man said that he was, and Webster waved 
his handspike. 

“ ‘ Then it’s going to cost you sixty dollars, and I’ll 
take a deposit now,’ he said. ‘ It’s my ox Fremont you’ve 
been after.’ ” 

“Did they give it to him?” Frank broke in. 

“ Five dollars,” Harry answered. “ Webster looked 
big and savage, and they compromised on that.” 

“ But had they hit the ox? ” 

Harry chuckled. “ Give a man who isn’t a hunter a 
repeater and he’ll never hit anything — unless it’s what 
he isn’t shooting at.” 

“Anyway, it’s better to stick to the single shot at 
first,” Mr. Oliver remarked. “ Then you take time and 
care, and it’s more likely that when you shoot you kill. 
No humane person has any use for the man who leaves 
badly wounded beasts wandering about the woods.” 

He rose, and shook out his pipe. 

“ We’ll be getting back,” he added. “ There’s only 
one way of making it easy to rise at sun-up.” 

They walked toward the house together, and it seemed 
to Frank that there was a good deal to be said for this 
rancher’s views. He did not tell tall stories and boast 
of what he had shot, but Frank had seen enough to 


50 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


realize that it was most unlikely that he left any sorely 
wounded animal to die in misery. It was not often that 
Mr. Oliver molested the beautiful wild creatures of the 
woods, but when he fixed the sights on one of them he 
killed it clean. 


CHAPTER V 


THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER 

T HREE or four weeks slipped by uneventfully, and 
Frank was commencing to like the simple, laborious 
life at the ranch. He and Harry were standing to- 
gether one evening on the shingle down in the cove. 
It was close upon high water and a long swell worked 
in, breaking noisily upon the pebbles, while they could 
see the blue undulations burst into snowy froth about 
the dark rocks at the entrance. The sun had just dipped ; 
it was wonderfully fresh and cool, and a sweet resinous 
smell drifted out of the forest behind them. 

Harry glanced at a canoe which lay close by. It was 
about fourteen feet long and just wide enough to sit 
in, and had been hollowed out of a cedar log by a Siwash 
Indian. The bow, which swept sharply upward, had 
been rudely cut into the likeness of a bird’s head. The 
craft wa$ kept there so that anybody who wished to 
reach the sloop could go off in her. 

“ I don’t think it’s quite high water yet, and the breeze 
is dropping,” Harry was saying. “ There’s just enough 
to take us a mile or two down the beach over the tide 
with the spritsail set. Then we could lower the mast and 
paddle home.” 

“ Wouldn’t she sail back ? ” Ray asked. 

“ No,” was the answer, “ only with a fair wind. You 
can’t beat a thing like that to windward. There’s not 
enough of her in the water.” 

Frank said that he would like to go, and after running 
the canoe down they lifted the short mast into place and 
set the little sail. It filled when a few strokes of the 
51 


52 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


paddle had driven them out of the cove, and they slid 
away, rising and falling smoothly, with the swell run- 
ning after them. Harry took hold of the rope that held 
the foot of the sail fast to a peg. 

“ You want to keep the sheet handy in a very small 
craft,” he instructed. “ Then if a hard puff of wind 
strikes her you can slack it up, or let it go altogether, 
when the sail will blow out loose. There’s more weight 
in this breeze than I expected.” 

It seemed to Frank from the gurgle at the bows and 
the way the foam slipped by them that they were sailing 
very fast, but for a while he watched the rocky heads 
that dipped to the water open out one after another and 
then close in again behind them. The woods that crept 
between them down to the strips of shingle were rapidly 
growing shadowy, and the ridges of water that followed 
them seemed to be getting darker, though here and there 
one of them was flecked with bright wisps of froth. 
At length Harry let the sheet go and brought the canoe 
around. 

“ We’ll have the mast down and get back,” he said. 

They had no trouble in rolling up the sail and laying 
the mast in the bottom of the craft, but when they 
dipped the paddles, Harry kneeling in the stern and 
Frank toward the bow, the latter realized that their next 
task would not be quite so easy. A chilly wind which 
seemed considerably stronger than before they turned 
struck his face, the bows splashed noisily, throwing up 
little spurts of spray, and now and then the narrow 
craft lurched rather wildly over the top of a swell. He 
worked hard for about twenty minutes, and then glancing 
astern was a little astonished to see that a rock which 
had been opposite them was now a remarkably small 
distance behind. Harry, who had evidently followed 
his glance, scowled disapprovingly. 

“ We’ll have to paddle, that’s a cold fact,” he declared. 
“ The tide seems to have turned quite a while before it 


THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER 59 


ought to have, and the breeze is getting up again. We 
might find slacker water right inshore.” 

They edged close in to the rocks, the sight of which 
did not add to Frank’s comfort, though the boat crept 
on a little faster. The swell broke in long white swirls 
about their feet, and it was evident that any attempt to 
land there was out of the question. Besides, even if they 
managed to reach the bush, there was no trail to the 
ranch, and he had no desire to struggle through the 
tangle of fallen branches and dense thickets in the dark- 
ness. His knees and hands were getting sore, but he 
toiled on patiently with the single-ended paddle, while 
the canoe lurched more viciously and little showers of 
spray flew in over her bow. It was becoming exceed- 
ingly hard work to drive the craft into the rising head 
sea. The foam-girt rocks were, however, slowly crawl- 
ing by, and at length, after laboring, panting and breath- 
less, around a somewhat larger head, Harry suddenly 
stopped paddling. 

“Hold on!” he exclaimed. “Just keep her from 
swinging, and look yonder ! ” 

Frank, glad of a brief rest, gazed astern. It was 
neither light nor dark, for a pale moon hung low in the 
sky, casting a faint silvery track upon the water, which 
was now flecked with white froth a little off shore. 
Across the sweep of radiance there moved a tall black 
spire of slanting canvas, with the foam leaping up about 
the shadowy strip of hull beneath. 

“ The schooner ! ” said Harry significantly. “ She’s 
beating up over the tide and she’ll probably stand close 
in, but I don’t think they could see us against the land.” 

He spoke as if he did not wish to be seen, and for 
no very clear reason Frank felt glad that they lay in 
the shadow of a big black head. The schooner was com- 
ing on very fast, rising, it seemed to him, bodily, until 
he could make out the curl of piled-up water that flowed 
away beneath her depressed side. The mass of strain- 


54 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


in g sailcloth hid most of her slanted deck, and he could 
see nobody on board her, but it seemed curious that she 
carried no lights. Then it occurred to him that she was 
heading straight for them, and he was about to dip his 
paddle when Harry stopped him. 

“ Keep still !” he commanded. “ They’ll have to come 
round before they reach us.” 

Frank could now hear the roar of water about the 
bow of the vessel, and in a minute or two she swayed 
suddenly upright and there was a great thrashing of 
canvas as, shooting forward, she came round. She 
was very near them and as her boom-foresail and main- 
sail swung across, leaving clear the side of the deck they 
had shrouded, he saw two or three shadowy figures busy 
forward. They became more distinct as she drove 
back into the moonlight, which fell upon the form of 
her helmsman. Frank could see him clearly, and there 
was, he fancied, something peculiar about the man. 

The splashing top of a sea slopped into the canoe 
as they got way on her, and they taxed their strength 
to the utmost during the next hour. The craft bucked 
and jumped as they laboriously drove her over the con- 
fused swell, which was rapidly getting higher, and there 
was already a good deal of water washing about inside 
her. Once or twice Frank held his breath as a threat- 
ening mass of water heaved up ahead, but in each case 
she lurched across it safely, and presently they found 
smoother water under another crag. He gave a sigh 
of relief when at length they reached the cove and beached 
her upon the shingle. They turned her over to empty 
before they ran her up, and then Harry sat down upon 
a boulder. Frank already had discovered that he seldom 
talked of anything they had done as though it were an 
exploit. 

“ I’m quite puzzled about that schooner,” he said pres- 
ently. 



“it seemed curious that she carried no lights” — Page 54 



















































































































THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER 


55 


“ Why?" 

Harry paused and thought a moment. “ Well, it’s 
a sure thing she’s the vessel that crept past us the morn- 
ing we were lying beneath the point, and though she’s 
been seen three or four times now there’s no notice in 
the papers of any arrival that seems to fit her. She 
has the look of being built for the Canadian sealing trade, 
and most of the craft in that business are mighty smart 
vessels." 

“ Doesn’t a ship have to carry papers saying where 
she’s from and where she’s going?" 

“ Oh, yes," assented Harry. “ Still, she might clear 
from somewhere in Canada, say for the halibut fishing — 
I’ve heard they’re trying to start it there — or something 
that would keep her out a month or so. Then, as there 
is no end of quiet inlets in British Columbia and a good 
many here, she could run up and down from one to an- 
other and go back with a few fish, and there’d be nothing 
to show what she had been doing in the meanwhile." 

“You think it’s something illegal?" 

“ If it is anything honest I don’t see why she was beat- 
ing up without her lights in the strength of the tide, 
when she’d have slacker water over toward the other 
side, only there’d be a chance of her being seen from 
the Seattle boat if she ran across yonder. Now it’s 
a general idea that there’s a good deal of dope — that’s 
opium — smuggled into this country, and now and then 
Chinamen, too. Our people won’t have any more of 
them, but though they have no trouble in getting into 
Canada, they seem to like the States better. I guess 
wages are higher." 

“ Have you talked to your father about it?" 

“ I told him what we’d seen the other time and he 
looked kind of amused, or as if he didn’t want to be 
bothered about the thing; though that may not have 
been it, either. Unless he tells you right out, you can 


56 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


never figure on what he’s thinking. Anyway, I’ll say 
nothing more to him unless there’s some particular rea- 
son.” 

Harry was afterward sorry that he had arrived at this 
decision, and, for that matter, so was his father, but 
it was the next morning before this came about. In the 
meanwhile the boys went back to the ranch, and soon 
afterward retired to rest in the room they now shared. 
Frank went to sleep at once, and it was some time later 
when, awaking suddenly, he fancied that Harry had 
left his bed, which was fixed against the opposite wall. 
A faint light from outside crept into the room, and 
Frank made out a black figure standing by the open win- 
dow. Slipping softly to the floor he moved toward it 
and Harry raised his hand warningly when he joined 
him. 

“What are you doing here?” Frank inquired. 

“ Well,” answered Harry, “ since you ask me, I don’t 
quite know, but I fancied I heard somebody about the 
ranch. Keep still and listen.” 

He spoke in a low and rather strained voice, and 
Frank, who was uneasily impressed by it, leaned out of 
the window. There was a moon somewhere in the 
sky, but it was obscured by clouds, and only a dim, 
uncertain light filtered down. It showed the great black 
firs which rose, a rampart of impenetrable darkness, 
beyond the rather less shadowy clearing, across part of 
which the fruit trees stretched. Then ran back, in reg- 
ular rows, little clumps of deeper obscurity which pres- 
ently grew blurred and faded into one another. The 
wind had apparently dropped again, for it was impres- 
sively still. 

“ I can’t hear anything,” whispered Frank. 

“ I’m not sure that I did,” rejoined Harry. “ It may 
be that seeing that schooner put the thing into my head, 
but we’ll wait a little now that we’re up.” 


THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER 


57 


For a couple of minutes they waited in silence. Then 
Harry suddenly gripped his companion’s arm. 

“ Look ! ” he whispered. “ Across the clearing — 
yonder ! ” 

Frank fancied that he could make out a shadowy object 
in the open space between the fruit trees and the forest. 
It was very dim and indistinct, and he realized that he 
would not have noticed it only that it moved. Shortly 
afterward it disappeared and a faint rattle like that made 
by two pieces of wood jarring together came out of the 
deep gloom beneath the firs. 

“ The fence,” suggested Harry. “ It sounded like the 
top rails going down.” 

The fence was made of split rails interlocked together 
in the usual manner without the use of nails, and it 
seemed to Frank very probable that anybody climbing 
over it in the darkness would be apt to knock one or 
two of them down. The question was who would be 
likely to climb over it, since there was no one living 
within some miles of the ranch. Then he caught an- 
other sound which seemed farther off. It suggested the 
crackle of rotten branches or torn-down undergrowth, 
but it ceased almost immediately. 

“ Slip on your things,” whispered Harry. “ I’m going 
down.” 

In a few moments they crept softly down the stair- 
way barefooted, and Harry opened the outer door very 
cautiously. He picked up an ax outside, and they moved 
silently around the house, stopping now and then to 
listen. There was only a deep stillness. Nothing 
seemed to move; though Frank wished that he had at 
least a good thick stick in his hand. He had an uncom- 
fortable feeling that they might come upon a man hiding 
in some strip of deeper gloom as they slowly crept 
along the wall. When at length they had satisfied them- 
selves that there was nobody about, Harry sat down. 


58 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ I can’t figure out this thing,” he mused. “ It seems 
to me that whoever those strangers were they haven’t 
been near the house, and it’s a quiet country, anyway.” 
He glanced down at his bare feet. “ I’d go along and 
look around the barn and stables only that I’d certainly 
stub my toes, and it wouldn’t be any use. Nobody steals 
horses around here. They couldn’t get rid of them if 
they did.” 

The outbuildings stood at some little distance from 
the house, and Frank, who remembered that they had 
strewn the trail to them with broken twigs in dragging 
some branches from the slashing, agreed with his com- 
panion that it would not be wise to traverse it in the 
darkness with unprotected feet. 

“ Couldn’t you slip into the kitchen and get our boots ? ” 
he suggested. 

“ Not without waking dad,” answered Harry. “ He’s 
in the next room, and he sleeps lightly. I’m not anxious 
to bring him out if no harm’s been done.” 

“ He’d get angry ? ” 

“ No, he’d only smile ; and somehow that makes you 
feel quite cheap and small. Besides ” — and he hesi- 
tated — “ there was another time, when I roused them 
for nothing; and I don’t want to do it again. You 
wouldn’t either, if you had stood as much about it from 
Jake as I’ve had to ever since.” 

They decided to say nothing about the matter unless 
some reason for doing so appeared in the morning, and 
creeping back through the house as silently as possible 
they went to bed. They awoke a little later than usual, 
and going down found Mr. Oliver standing at one side 
of the kitchen table rather grave of face, with Jake, who 
also looked thoughtful, opposite him. A strip of paper 
with some writing on it lay between them. Mr. Oliver 
looked around as the boys came in. 

“ Did either of you hear anything suspicious last 
night ? ” he asked. 


THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER 


59 


“ Yes/’ said Harry hesitatingly. “ In fact, we came 
down.” 

He briefly related why they had done so, and Jake 
broke In : 

“ Then why in the name of wonder didn’t you call 
somebody ? ” 

“ It’s a reasonable question,” said Mr. Oliver. 

Harry explained with some diffidence that they were 
afraid of being laughed at, and Frank felt a little uncom- 
fortable under the rancher’s steady gaze. 

“ Well,” said the latter dryly, “ I suppose your idea 
was natural, and we’ll let it go at that. It’s perhaps 
scarcely worth while to point out that most people get 
laughed at now and then, and there’s no reason for 
believing that it hurts them. I wonder if you will be 
surprised to hear that my team has gone ? ” 

They were certainly somewhat startled. 

“ I found this stuck up on the stable door,” said Jake, 
pushing the strip of paper across toward them. 

The boys read the straggling writing : “ If you want 
your team back keep your mouth shut” 

For a moment they looked at each other in silence, 
and then Mr. Oliver turned to them. 

“ It’s all we know in the meanwhile. Have you any- 
thing more to tell us?” 

Harry diffidently mentioned the schooner, and his 
father drew down his brows. 

“ Whether her appearance has any connection with 
the matter is more than I can say, but I’ll sail up to the 
settlement this morning. You and Frank can go on 
with the drain cutting while I am away.” 

Just then Miss Oliver came in to get breakfast ready, 
and when the meal was finished the two boys made for 
the clearing where they were cutting a trench. When 
they reached their destination Harry sat down and 
pushed back his hat. 

“ This thing isn’t very clear to me, but I’m beginning 


60 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


to get the drift of it,” he announced. “ It’s quite likely 
that dad knows a good deal more about it than I do, but 
until he has it all worked out he won’t tell. First of all, 
we’ll allow that they’re smugglers on that schooner. 
They borrowed two of our horses and that fixes it.” 

“ You couldn’t smuggle a great deal on two horses,” 
Frank pointed out. 

“ Sure,” - admitted Harry. “ Still, they might have 
picked up another team somewhere else, and you want 
to remember that it only pays to smuggle things that are 
valuable and can be easily moved. Now one packhorse 
load of dope would be worth a good many dollars, and 
you can’t move anything much easier than a man. He’s 
got feet.” 

This was incontestable, but Frank considered the mat- 
ter. 

“ If you turned a number of Chinamen loose in the 
bush wouldn’t they be recognized as strangers at any 
settlement they reached and have to give an account of 
themselves to somebody ? ” 

“The trouble is that, although I believe they have 
to carry papers of some kind, it’s mighty hard to tell 
one Chinaman from another and they all work into each 
other’s hands.” 

“ Your idea is that the smugglers have confederates? ” 

“ They have them, sure,” said Harry. “ There’s some 
diking being done on a salt marsh not far away, and 
the last time I was there it struck me there were some 
hard-looking white toughs on the workings. Then there’s 
a small Chinese colony behind the settlement, and it’s 
thick bush with only a few ranches for some leagues 
beyond. Just the kind of country for running dope 
through.” 

“ Are the ranchers likely to stand in ? ” 

“ No, not in a general way, but it’s possible that a 
man here and there living by himself in the bush would 


THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER 61 


say nothing if they borrowed a horse or two. It’s not 
nice to have a gang of toughs up against you.” 

“ Your father doesn’t seem inclined to look at it that 
way.” 

Harry laughed. “ I’ll allow that there’s a good deal of 
sense in dad. It would be clear to him that he couldn’t 
well give them away afterward if he did nothing this 
time. They’d certainly have got him; and dad’s not 
the man to let a gang of dope runners order him round.” 
He paused a moment, and added significantly: “If they 
try any bluffing in this case there’ll be trouble.” 

Frank asked no further questions and they set about 
the trenching. 


CHAPTER VI 


AT THE HELM 

M R. OLIVER did not come back until nightfall. He 
said nothing about his visit to the settlement and 
several days passed before the boys heard anything 
further of the matter. In the meanwhile they went on 
with the drain they were cutting across a swampy strip 
of clearing, and one afternoon they stood in the bottom 
of the four-foot trench. Harry was then busy with 
a grubhoe, cutting through the roots and breaking up 
the wet soil, which his companion flung out with a long- 
handled shovel. It was unpleasantly hot, and the flies 
were troublesome. Frank’s hands were too muddy to 
brush them away and they crawled about his face and 
into his ears. He had already decided that draining 
was about the last occupation he would have chosen for 
a scorching afternoon, had the choice been open to him. 

He stood, stripped to shirt and trousers, in about a 
foot of water, and because he had not learned the trick 
of pitching out the soil, part of every shovelful fell 
back upon him. His shirt was spattered all over, and 
patches of sticky mire glued it to his skin. There was 
no doubt that ranching was considerably less romantic 
than he had supposed it to be, and logging and ditching 
struck him as particularly uninteresting and somewhat 
barbarous work, but he was beginning to realize that all 
the agricultural prosperity of his country was founded on 
toil of a very similar kind. The wheat and the fruit 
trees would not grow until man with patient labor had 
prepared the soil for them, and, what was more signifi- 
cant, Mr, Oliver had made it plain that their yield 
62 


AT THE HELM 


63 


varied in direct proportion with the work bestowed on 
them. Nature’s alchemy, it seemed, could transmute 
the effort of straining muscle into golden sheaves, glow- 
ing-tinted apples, and velvet-skinned peaches and prunes. 

It was clear to Frank that if he meant to become a 
rancher he must make up his mind to face a good many 
unpleasant tasks, and he swung up the mire shovelful 
by shovelful, though his back and limbs were aching 
and he had to work in a horribly cramped position. He 
was young, and though there were times when the work 
seemed almost too much for him, it was consoling to 
feel when he laid down his tools at night that he was 
growing harder and tougher with every day’s toil, for 
his muscles were now beginning to obey instead of 
mastering him. He could go on for several hours after 
they commenced to ache, without its costing him any 
great effort. 

By and by, however, there was an interruption, and 
Frank was by no means sorry when Mr. Oliver came 
up with a stranger and called them out of the trench. 

“ This is Mr. Barclay whose business is connected with 
the collection of the United States revenue,” he said. 
“ I believe he would like a little talk with you.” 

He walked away and left them with the stranger, 
who sat down on a log and took out a cigar. He was 
a little man and rather stout, dressed carelessly in store 
clothes, with a big soft hat and a white shirt which 
bulged up above the opening in his half-buttoned vest. 
It occurred to Frank that he looked like a country doctor. 
From out rather bushy eyebrows shone a pair of whim- 
sical, twinkling eyes. When he had lighted his cigar 
he indicated the trench with a large, plump hand. 

“ Been making all that hole yourselves ? ” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Harry. 

“Interesting work?” 

“ That depends on how you look at it,” said Harry 
flippantly. “Would you like to try?” 


64 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Mr. Barclay waved his hand. “ It isn’t necessary. 
Did something of the same kind years ago — only, if I 
remember, it was rather wetter.” 

“ Where was that ? ” Harry inquired with an air of 
languid politeness, at which Frank felt inclined to 
chuckle. 

“ Place called Forks Butte Creek. It was a twenty- 
foot trench.” 

Harry seemed astonished and his manner suddenly 
changed. 

“ You were with the boys at Forks Butte when they 
swung the creek ? ” 

“ Sure,” assented Mr. Barclay with a laugh. “ I didn’t 
expect you’d have heard of it. You certainly weren’t 
ranching then.” 

“ I’ve heard of it lots of times,” declared Harry, turn- 
ing excitedly to Frank. “ It was one of the biggest 
things ever done by a few men this side of the Cascades. 
The old-timers talk about it yet. A mining row — there 
were about a dozen of them working some alluvial claims 
on a disputed location. I don’t know the whole of it, but 
the thing turned upon the frontage, and they stood off a 
swarm of jumpers while they shifted the creek.” 

“ Something like that,” said Mr. Barclay. “ In those 
days they interpreted the mining laws with a certain 
amount of sentiment, which — and in some respects it’s 
a # pity — they don’t do now.” He paused and flicked 
the ash from his cigar. “ I understand you have been 
seeing a mysterious schooner.” 

His tone was sufficiently ironical to put Harry on his 
mettle, and he furnished a full and particular account 
of the vessel. When he had finished Mr. Barclay glanced 
at him with amusement in his eyes. 

“You have an idea there might be smugglers on 
board of her?” he suggested. 

“ It’s more than an idea. I’m sure.” 

“I wonder if you could tell me why?” 


AT THE HELM 


65 


It was rather difficult to answer, but Harry made the 
attempt, furnishing his questioner with half a dozen 
reasons which did not seem to have much effect on him. 

“ Well,” he persisted, “ you’re convinced she had 
opium and Chinamen on board her ? ” 

“ Aren’t you?” 

Mr. Barclay looked up with a smile. “At the pres- 
ent moment I can’t form an opinion. After all, it’s 
possible.” 

He rose, and as he was strolling away toward the 
house Harry’s face contracted into an indignant frown. 

“ That man must have been cooking, or something 
of the kind, at Forks Butte,” he broke out contemptu- 
ously. “ Anyway, it was the last time he ever did any- 
thing worth talking about. Did you ever run up against 
such a stuffed image?” 

Frank was far from certain that this description was 
altogether applicable to the stranger, but Harry seemed 
so much annoyed that he did not express his opinion, 
and they got down into the trench again. When they 
went back to the ranch an hour later they heard that 
Mr. Oliver and Mr. Barclay had gone to a neighboring 
ranch and intended to make a journey into the bush if 
they could borrow horses. When the boys were eating 
breakfast the next morning Miss Oliver turned to Harry. 

“ We have run out of pork, and the flour is almost 
gone,” she said. “ I meant to ask your father to bring 
some when he went up to the settlement, but I forgot 
it, and Jake must bring in those steers to-day.” 

“We’ll go,” broke in Harry quickly. “There’s a 
nice sailing breeze.” 

His aunt looked doubtful. “ You have never been so 
far with the sloop unless Jake was with you; and isn’t 
there a nasty tide-rip somewhere? Still, I don’t know 
what I shall do unless I get the flour.” 

She yielded when Harry insisted; and shortly after- 
ward the boys paddled off to the sloop and made the 


66 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


canoe fast astern. They set the big gaff mainsail and 
Harry sculled her out of the cove before he hoisted 
the jib. Then he made Frank take the helm. 

“ It’s a head wind until we’re round the point yonder, 
but you’ll have to learn to sail her sometime,” he said. 
“ The first thing to remember is that she’ll only lie up 
at an angle to the wind and if you make it too small she 
won’t go through the water. You want to feel a slight 
strain on the tiller.” 

He hauled the sheets in until the boom hung just 
over the boat’s quarter, and while Frank grasped the 
tiller she slid out into open water. Bright sunshine 
smote the little tumbling green ridges that had here and 
there crests of snowy foam, and she bounded over 
them with a spray cloud flying at her bows. She seemed 
to be making an excellent pace, but Harry shook his 
head. 

“ No,” he objected, “you’re letting her fall off. That 
is, the angle you’re sailing her at is too big. She’ll go 
faster that way, but she won’t go so far to windward. 
Don’t pull so much on your tiller and she’ll come up 
closer.” 

Frank tried it, but the boat sailed more slowly, and 
presently her mainsail flapped. 

“ Now you’re too close,” warned Harry. “ You’re 
trying to head her right into the wind. Pull your helm 
up again.” 

Frank did so, and when the boat gathered speed he 
ventured a question. 

“ If you keep her too close to the wind 9he won’t 
sail, and if you let her fall off she’s not going where 
you want. How do you find out the exact angle she 
ought to make ? ” 

Harry laughed. “ It depends on the boat, the cut 
of her sails, and how smart you are at the helm. One 
man would shove her to windward a point closer than 
another could and keep her sailing faster, too. It’s a 


AT THE HELM 67 

thing that takes time to learn, and there are men you 
couldn’t teach to sail a boat at all.” 

Frank found that it became easier by degrees, though 
his companion did not appear altogether satisfied. The 
sloop had dipped her lee rail just level with the water 
now, and she rushed along, bounding with a lurch and 
splash over the small froth-tipped seas. He began to 
understand how one arrived at the proper angle by the 
slant at which the wind struck his face as well as by 
watching the direction of the seas which came charging 
down to meet her in regular formation. Then Harry 
said that as they had stretched out far enough to clear 
the point they would go about upon the other tack. 

“ Shove your helm down — that’s to lee — not too 
hard ! ” he ordered, and as Frank obeyed him there was a 
sharp banging of sail cloth and the boat, swinging 
around, swayed upright. 

In another moment the wind was on her opposite side, 
and she was heading off at an angle to her previous 
course, while Harry with one foot braced against the 
lee coaming struggled to flatten in the sheet on the jib. 
The big mainboom had swung over of its own accord 
amidst a great clatter of blocks. By and by when the 
point slid away to lee of them Harry told Frank 
to pull his helm up, and then he pointed to a confused 
mass of gray rocks and trees rising above the glistening 
water several miles away. 

“ Now,” he said, “ she’ll go there straight, and all 
you have to do is to keep her bowsprit on yonder head. 
It’s a fair wind, and when you’ve got that you want to 
slack out the sheets until the sails are as far outboard 
as they’ll go and still keep full. If your sheets are too 
tight, you’ll know it by the weight on the tiller.” 

He let a couple of ropes run out through the clattering 
blocks, and the sloop, slanting over a little farther, 
seemed to leap forward. The sparkling green ridges 
which came tumbling up on one side of her swung her 


68 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


aloft with the foam boiling along the edge of her lee 
deck, and then surged away in turn and let her drop 
while another came rolling up. Instead of being a mere 
thing of wood and canvas she seemed to become animate, 
charged with vitality. The springy way she rushed along 
was strangely exhilarating. Frank became fascinated 
watching her bows go up and the snowy, straining sail 
sweep across the dazzling blue at every lurch, while he 
became conscious of a sense of control and mastery as he 
gripped the tiller. He felt that he could do what he 
wanted with this wonderful rushing thing. 

For she was certainly wonderful. There was no doubt 
of that, because among all of man's works and inventions 
there is none that more nearly approaches the simplicity of 
perfection and adaptability to its purpose than the modern 
sailboat. It has taken centuries to evolve her, each 
builder adding a little to the work of those who went 
before, and balancing in her making, often without know- 
ing it, the great natural forces one against another, until 
at last science justified what man did, so that with this 
frail creation one may brave the untrammeled winds of 
heaven and the onslaught of the seas. 

By and by the headland they had been nearing thrust 
them off their course, and outside it lay a nest of islets, 
with a strong stream running up between. As it ran to 
windward it broke up the regular, breeze-driven waves 
into short, foaming combers with hollowed breasts and 
tumbling tops which flung up wisps of spray. Frank 
glanced at this tumult with some anxiety, and it was a 
relief to him when his companion offered to take the 
tiller. 

“ You had better let me have her,” Harry said. “ She 
wants handling in a jump like that. I’d heave a reef 
down to reduce the sail, only that it would take us some 
time to tie it in and there'll be smoother water once 
we're past the islands. As we'll have to beat through, 
you can get the sheets in.” 


AT THE HELM 


69 


Frank found this no easy task, for he had no idea that 
the sails could pull so hard, and Harry had to help him 
with one hand. Then the latter’s face became intent as 
they plunged into the turmoil. The seas looked big and 
angry now. In fact, as usually happens, they looked 
a good deal bigger than they really were, but they were 
breaking in a threatening manner and came on to meet 
the sloop in white-topped phalanxes. She went over 
some with a disconcerting plunge and swoop, but she 
rammed a few of the rest, driving her jib and bows in 
and flinging the brine all over her when she swung 
them up. Her deck was sluicing, and every now and 
then a green and white cascade came frothing over the 
coaming into the well. Frank, however, noticed that, 
instead of letting the boat meet the combers, his com- 
panion occasionally pulled his tiller up, so that, swinging 
round a little, she brought the ridge of frothing water 
farther on her side as she plunged over it. 

“ I thought you had to face a nasty sea head-on,” 
he said. 

“ Did you ? 99 Harry responded. “ Then watch that 
smaller one.” 

A slope of water came tumbling on some yards ahead, 
and as the boy eased his helm down an inch or two the 
bows came up to meet the sea. They struck it full in 
its hollowed breast, and the next moment there was a 
shock and half the deck was lost in a rush of foam. 

“ Like me to plug another ? ” laughed Harry. 

Frank begged him not to do it. The result of the 
experiment was rather alarming, and Harry let her fall 
off a little to dodge the onslaught of the succeeding 
combers, until at last they grew smaller as the stream 
spread itself out in open water. Then he gave Frank 
some further instruction. 

“ If you were pulling or paddling a small craft it 
would be safer to bring her head-on, because you have 
to remember that she’d be going mighty slow, but when 


70 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


you’re sailing a boat that’s carrying her speed it’s evi- 
dent that you don’t want to ram her right at a comber. 
If you do, she’s bound to go bang into it. When you 
see one that looks threatening you let her fall off slightly 
and she goes over slanting.” He broke off for a mo- 
ment with a laugh. “ Seems to me I’m always on the 
‘ teach.’ You come here and take the tiller while I 
get some of the water out of her. You can head for 
that point to starboard.” 

He busied himself with the bucket while Frank steered 
the boat, and ah hour or so later they ran into a little 
sheltered inlet where they brought her head to wind 
and pitched the anchor over. After that they bailed out 
the half-swamped canoe, and, dropping into her, paddled 
ashore. 


CHAPTER VII 


A WARNING 

F RANK looked about him with some curiosity when 
they reached the settlement, which struck him as a 
singularly unattractive place. In a hole chopped out 
of the forest that crept close to the edge of the water 
stood a few small log houses and several roughly boarded 
shacks. Tall fir stumps surrounded them, and here and 
there provision cans and old boots lay among the fern, 
in which a few lean hogs were rooting. Farther on, 
however, there was an opening in the bush, for the boy 
could catch the gleam of water between the trees, and 
in one place the great columnar trunks cut against the 
soft green of a meadow. The grass was bright with 
sunshine, but dim shadow hung over the forest-shrouded 
settlement. 

“A forlorn spot, ,, said Harry. “I don’t know why 
the folks first pitched here, but they raise a little fruit, 
and now and then a Seattle boat comes along. It’s thin 
gravel soil on this strip, and that’s probably the reason 
they haven’t done any more chopping — there are salt 
meadows farther along — but if they’d any hustlers 
among them they’d have got out their axes and let a 
little daylight in.” He waved his hand contemptuously. 
“ They’re a mean crowd, anyway, except the storekeeper, 
and I’ve wondered how he makes a living out of them. 
Now we’ll go along and get that flour.” 

They moved on down the trail, which was torn up 
by the passage of jumper sledges, until they reached 
a frame building which Frank had not noticed at first. 
It stood back a little and was larger and neater than 
71 


72 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


any of the rest. A veranda ran along the front of it 
and in one window small flour bags and more provision 
cans were displayed. A couple of men in blue shirts 
and overalls lounged smoking on the veranda in a man- 
ner which suggested that they had never hurried them- 
selves in their lives, and they seemed to be the only 
inhabitants of the place. As the boys walked up the 
stairway Harry pointed to a notice pasted up in the 
window. Frank stopped and read it aloud. 

“Twenty dollars will be paid to any one identifying 
the man who recently drove a pair of horses off the 
Oliver ranch ” 

With a laugh Harry looked up defiantly at the loung- 
ing men. “ That’s Oliver’s answer,” he said. “ They 
told him to keep his mouth shut.” 

One of the men grinned. “ Seems to me it was good 
advice. Do you figure any one round here is going to 
earn those twenty dollars ? ” 

Harry shook his head. “ I don’t,” he answered. 
“ Still, my only reason for believing it is that the money 
isn’t big enough. Anyway, that notice will serve its 
purpose. It makes it clear that we mean to fight.” 

The lounger grinned again and Harry, marching past 
him with his head up, entered the store. A man who 
was sitting behind the counter rose when the boys came 
in and raised his hand in a manner which seemed to indi- 
cate that caution was desirable. 

“You’re wanting some groceries?” he asked. 

“ Flour,” Harry answered. “ A seventy-pound bag, 
if you’ve got it. Some pork, too — you know the piece 
we take. You might send them down to the beach, if 
there’s anybody in the place who’s not afraid of carrying 
a flour bag.” 

The storekeeper smiled and strolled casually toward 
the window. Coming back he leaned upon the counter. 

“Your aunt’s mighty particular about her pork,” he 


A WARNING 


73 


said, raising his voice a little. “ Better come along into 
the back store and see what I’ve got/’ 

They followed him into a smaller room, where he 
first of all threw several big slabs of pork down upon a 
board, making, it seemed to Frank, as much noise as 
possible. 

“ Twelve pounds in this lot,” he said loudly, then 
lowering his voice : “ Those fellows outside haven’t gone 
and I don’t want them to hear. You haven’t found your 
horses yet ? ” 

Harry admitted that they had not done so, and the 
man nodded gravely. 

“ Well,” he said, “ I guess they’ll turn up presently. 
I couldn’t tell your father that because there were other 
folks in the store when he handed me the notice. What 
I want to say is that he’s not wise in bluffing the boys. 
You had better tell him that’s my opinion.” 

“How much do you know about the thing?” Harry 
asked directly. 

“ Very little, but I can guess a good deal. Quite 
enough, anyway, to convince me that you folks had bet- 
ter lie quiet, and let the boys alone.” 

Harry glanced scornfully toward the veranda. 

“ Pshaw 1 ” he growled. “ We don’t want to meddle, 
but it’s another matter to let those slouches drive off 
our team. That’s my view, though I don’t know what 
my father means to do about it. He hasn’t told me.” 

“ He never does tell folks,” the storekeeper answered 
with a trace of dryness. “ I guess he’ll wait, and kick 
when he’s ready, but you tell him from me that he’s up 
against quite a big thing.” He raised his voice : “ Well, 
I’ll send that pork and flour along.” 

The boys went out and met one of the loungers stroll- 
ing casually across the store, though Frank had a sus- 
picion that he had come in softly some time earlier. As 
they were walking down to the beach Harry glanced 
up the strip of sheltered water. 


7 4 , BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ There’s a Chinese camp a little way up the creek/’ 
he said. “ Nothing much to see there, but we may as 
well take a look at it.” 

They paddled across a strip of shadow where the 
reflections of spreading cedar and towering fir floated 
inverted in the still, green water until the ripple from 
the bows broke across and banished them. After that 
they slid out into the sunlight where a narrow belt of 
cultivated land ran back on either hand. On one side 
it was partly hidden by a bank of soil, at the end of 
which three or four men were leisurely working. They 
merely looked down as the canoe slid past. 

“ Hard cases ! ” said Harry presently. “ If I was 
sheriff I’d clean this hole right out. There are decent 
folks here, but the curious thing is that when you let 
two or three toughs into a place they seem to get on 
top.” 

Frank made no comment, and soon they were once 
more paddling into the shadow of the forest. The creek 
was growing smaller, and at length they ran the canoe 
ashore and struck into a narrow trail through the bush. 

It was now getting on into the afternoon and Frank 
felt sorry that they had not eaten the lunch Miss Oliver 
had prepared for them before they left the sloop. It 
was very hot, and very still, except when now and then 
the drumming of a blue grouse came sharply out of the 
shadows. By and by, however, the wood became a little 
thinner, and Harry pointed toward an opening between 
the trees. 

“ That’s the place,” he said. “ Not much to look at, 
but it’s good land. You can see the maples yonder — 
that’s always a favorable sign — and somebody with 
money has lately bought quite a piece of it to start a 
fruit ranch on. The Chows have taken the contract for 
clearing it, and if any dope has been landed in the 
neighborhood they’re probably mixed up with the thing.” 

Frank glanced toward the opening, and sitting, as he 


A WARNING 


75 


was, in dim shadow, the open space he looked out upon 
seemed flooded with dazzling brightness. In the back- 
ground, and some distance away, little, blue-clad figures 
were toiling with axes that flashed as they swung amidst 
a confusion of branches and fallen logs, the staccato 
chunk of the blades ripping through the heavy stillness. 
Nothing else, however, seemed to move, and the air 
was filled with a languorous, resinous smell. Rows of 
stumps stretched out from the spot on which the China- 
men were working, breaking off before a cluster of bark 
and split-board shacks that stood beneath the edge of 
the forest. A man dressed in loose, blue garments was 
seated motionless outside one of the shacks, before two 
logs, from between which a little smoke curled straight 
up into the air. Presently the man stood up, and just 
then Harry seized Frank’s shoulder. 

“ Look round a little — to the left,” he whispered. 

Frank did so and was astonished to see another man 
slip quietly out of the forest and approach the shack. 
His face was not discernible, but there was something 
peculiar in the way he walked, and his dress made it 
evident that he was a white man. 

“ Have you seen him before? ” Harry asked softly. 

“ I can’t locate him, but I’ve an idea that he’s not quite 
a stranger,” said Frank. 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ I’m open to make a guess at 
him. Just as the schooner went about that night I had 
a look at her helmsman. He had his back to me, but 
it was moonlight, and I could see that one shoulder 
hunched up in a kind of curious manner.” 

Frank looked again and it seemed to him that there 
was something unustfal in the way the man held his 
shoulder. It was somewhat higher than the other, 
though it hardly amounted to a deformity. 

“ Slip in behind that tree,” whispered Harry, pointing 
toward the bush. “ We’ll creep up through the shadow 
if he goes into the shack.” 


76 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


They spent some minutes moving forward in and out- 
among the trees, and in the meanwhile Frank saw the 
stranger enter the shack and the Chinaman follow him. 
Then he and Harry walked out of the bush scarcely 
a score of yards from the rude building, and headed 
straight for it. As they approached, the Chinaman be- 
came visible in the doorway, where he stood waiting 
for them. He appeared to be an old man, for his face 
was lined and seamed, but it was absolutely expression- 
less, an impassive yellow mask, and Frank felt baffled 
and repelled by it. As soon as it was evident that the 
boys intended to enter his dwelling, he moved aside, 
and when they stood in the little, shadowy room Frank 
was astonished to see that there was nobody else in it. 
This seemed incomprehensible, for there was only one 
door in the place. In the meanwhile the Chinaman was 
looking at them quietly. 

“ It’s quite hot,” observed Harry. 

“ Velly hot,” assented the other, who did not seem in 
any way disturbed by the fact that they had so uncere- 
moniously marched in. 

Harry appeared embarrassed after this, as though he 
did not know what to say next, until he was evidently 
seized by an inspiration. 

“Got any chow, John?” he asked. 

“ Velly good chow,” answered the Chinaman. “ Lice, 
blue glouse, smokee fishee.” 

“ Blue grouse ! ” said Harry disgustedly aside to Frank. 
“ It’s the nesting season, but I guess that wouldn’t count 
for much with them.” He turned to his host. “ I’m 
not a heathen. Savvy cook American? Got any flour 
you can make biscuits or flapjacks of?” 

“ You leavee chow to me,” said the other. “ Cookee 
all same big hotel Seattle, Tacoma, San F’lisco.” 

“ It’s quite likely,” said Harry, looking round at Frank. 
“ You can trust a Chinaman to turn out a decent meal. 


A WARNING 


77 


I’ll walk round a bit in the meanwhile ; you can sit here 
and rest.” 

Frank did not particularly wish to rest, but he fancied 
that his companion had given him a hint, and while the 
Chinaman busied himself with his pots and pans he 
sat down outside the shack. He had been up early that 
morning, and after the steady, arduous work at the 
ranch it was pleasant to sit still in the strip of shadow 
and let his eyes wander idly about the clearing. Among 
other things, he noticed that a little trickle of water 
flowed across it, and that the soil was quaggy in the 
neighborhood. He concluded that the stranger, who 
had so mysteriously disappeared, must have crossed the 
wet place. 

It was some little time before Harry came back and 
the Chinaman then set out their dinner. Frank had no 
idea what some of it consisted of and his companion 
was unable to enlighten him, but it was excellent. When 
they had finished, the man turned to Harry. 

“ One dolla,” he said gravely. 

Harry handed it over readily and smiled at Frank when 
they strolled back into the bush. 

“ It wasn’t what I’d figured on when I first walked in, 
but I had to make some excuse,” he said. “Just now 
I’d very much like to know how far it went with him.” 
He paused and looked thoughtful. “ I guess it wasn’t 
a very long way. The image is ahead of us by a dollar.” 

Frank laughed. “ You had some reason for going 
for that walk ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Harry. “ I wanted to make sure 
of things, and the ground was soft. There were some 
footprints in it — going from the shack — and they’d 
been made quite lately by a white man’s boot. John 
sticks to his slipper things in a general way. Anyhow, 
it was the man we saw who left those tracks.” 

“ How do you know that ? ” 


78 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ There were a lot of others about, but they’d been 
made earlier. The water had got into them, but there 
was very little in those I was interested in.” 

Frank was conscious that this was a point which 
would probably have escaped his notice, but he had not 
lived in the bush and learned to use his eyes. 

“ It’s very curious how the fellow got out of the shack 
without our seeing him,” he said. 

“ It looks curious until you begin to think. Now, 
though I tried to keep my eye on it all the while, the 
trees kept getting between me and the shack as we made 
for it, and what I couldn’t see you couldn’t see either. 
You were close behind me, which, in one way, was 
where we were wrong. If we had crept in well apart, 
the same tree wouldn’t have bothered both of us, though 
if we’d done that it would have doubled the chances of 
our being seen.” 

. “A' tree isn’t such a very big thing,” Frank objected. 

“ No,” said Harry. “ The point is that it will shut an 
object a good deal bigger than itself out of your sight.” 
He stopped a moment and pointed toward a neighboring 
cedar. “ We’ll say that one’s three feet in diameter, but, 
as you’re standing, it will shut off a good deal more 
than a track three feet wide through the bush. You 
want to run a line from your eye to both edges of the 
trunk and then carry them out behind it. The farther 
you run them, the farther they get apart, and as you 
can’t see round a corner, everything in the wedge they 
enclose is shut out from view. Got that into you? It 
will come in useful when you’re trailing a deer.” 

It was quite clear to Frank now that it had been 
explained, but his companion went on. 

“ Well,” he added, “ it wouldn’t have taken that fellow 
more than a few seconds to slip out of the shack and in 
behind it. Then if he kept it between him and us he’d 
be hidden until he reached the bush.” 


A WARNING 


79 


“ Yes ,” said Frank. “ It must mean that he saw us, 
and didn’t want us to see him.” 

“ You’re getting quite smart,” said Harry with a grin. 
“ I don’t know if you noticed it, but you trod on a rotten 
branch that smashed. He didn’t want us to know him 
again, but I’d pick that fellow anywhere by his back 
and walk. Now why was he so anxious that we shouldn’t 
see him talking to the Chinaman?” 

It was a suggestive question, but Frank could not 
answer it, and Harry said nothing further. Reaching 
the canoe they paddled down the creek until they came 
abreast of the sloop and saw the provisions lying upon 
the shingle some little distance from the water, for the 
tide had ebbed since their arrival. When they had run 
the canoe in Frank assisted Harry in getting the flour 
bag on his back, but gave a sudden cry of dismay as a 
white cloud flew all over him. 

“ Hold on ! ” he cried. “ Put it down. It’s running 
out ! ” 

Harry dropped the bag and drew down his brows as 
he gazed at the little pile of flour which lay at his feet. 
Then he suddenly stooped down. 

“ The bag seemed a sound one,” Frank suggested. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Harry shortly. “ There’s only one 
thing the matter with it. See here,” and he laid his 
finger on a long slit. “ Somebody has stuck a knife 
into it.” 

“A mean trick!” Frank broke out wrathfully. 

Harry stood up with a flash in his eyes. “ It’s rather 
more than that. It’s a hint. Anyway, if you’ll get 
hold of the other end we’ll pack the bag down with the 
cut uppermost.” 

In spite of this precaution they spilled a good deal of 
the flour before they got it on board the sloop, but Harry 
said no more about the matter, and hoisting sail they slid 
out of the inlet with a faint breeze abeam of them. They 


80 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


found it fair and the breeze only a little stronger when 
they had left the woods behind, and Frank sat at the 
tiller while the sloop glided rapidly through the smooth 
blue water with no more than a drowsy gurgle beneath 
her bows. The tide was running down with them now 
and it was only when he glanced toward the beach that 
he realized how fast they were going. 

A pleasant salt odor of drying weed was mingled with 
the scent of the firs. In front of them a wonderful 
vista of white snow mountains emerged from fleecy 
cloud, and far beneath the silvery vapor appeared the 
faint and shadowy blurs of distant hillsides clothed 
with mighty forest. Overhead the big white sail swayed 
languidly to and fro, cutting sharply into the blue, and 
Frank felt that he would like to sail on like this for 
hours, lounging at the helm, and listening to the water 
as it slipped along the sides. With a light fair wind he 
could guide the boat wherever he wished by the slightest 
touch of the tiller, and it was pleasant to see how stead- 
ily he could keep her bowsprit pointing to a low rocky 
head that rose, a patch of soft blue shadow, against the 
evening light. 

The voyage, however, came to an end almost too soon, 
and the rocks and firs were growing dim when they ran 
into the cove and picked up their mooring buoy. After 
they had stowed and covered the sails they went ashore, 
and both boys were very tired and warm when they 
reached the homestead. Harry’s clothes were covered 
with flour, which had left a white trail along the way. 
Miss Oliver was standing in the lamplight when they 
came in and noticed the white patches on their clothes. 

“ You have let him give you a burst bag ! ” she ex- 
claimed. 

Harry looked meaningly at Frank. “ No,” he said, 
“ I think it was all right when it left the store and 
I don’t think we have spilled more than a few pounds. 


A WARNING 


81 


Perhaps we had better skip it into the barrel. It will 
save the stuff from running out when you move it.” 

They managed to carry it away between them, and 
when they had emptied it Harry turned to Frank. 

“ If she starts talking about that bag, head her off on 
to something else,” he said. “ I don’t want her to get 
imagining trouble every time we leave the ranch.” 

When Miss Oliver resumed the subject at supper 
Frank attempted to divert her attention, and fancied that 
he succeeded, though he wondered why she smiled at 
times. When the boys had gone to their room she picked 
up the bag and stretched it out under the light. Then 
her face grew grave as she saw the slit in it. Being a 
clever woman, however, she decided not to mention her 
suspicions. 


CHAPTER VIII 


SALMON SPEARING 

W HEN the boys came in for breakfast next morn- 
ing Jake was standing in the kitchen, and Miss 
Oliver sat opposite him looking unusually thoughtful. 
“ What’s the matter ? ” Harry asked. 

Jake turned toward him slowly. 

“ I don’t know that there’s anything very wrong,” 
he said. “ Leader’s come back.” 

Leader was the name of one of the missing horses, 
and Frank started as he remembered what the store- 
keeper had said, but feeling Miss Oliver’s eyes upon him, 
turned his head and looked out into the clearing. 
“Where’s Tillicum?” inquired Harry. 

“ That,” replied Jake, “ is more than I can tell. 
Leader was standing outside the stable when I went 
along and I can’t make out why the other horse wasn’t 
with him. He’d have come with Leader if anybody had 
turned them into the trail together.” 

Harry called to Frank and went out of the door. 
Jake followed them to the stable, where they found the 
horse looking rather jaded, but except for that very 
little the worse. Jake nodded reassuringly when Harry 
had felt him over. 

“ No sign of anything wrong,” he said. “ There was 
a good deal of dried mud on him before I fixed him up, 
and he seemed mighty keen on his corn. They hadn’t 
given him very much.” 

“ What do you make of it?” Harry asked. 

“ About as much as you do,” answered Jake. “ They 
turned him loose on the trail when they’d done with 
82 


SALMON SPEARING 83 

him, and that’s all there is to it. I guess the question is 
what they’ve done with Tillicum. One thing’s certain. 
If he doesn’t turn up, your father’s going to be mighty 
mad.” 

Harry agreed that this would be very probable, though 
he did not think his father would show it. As there 
was nothing more to be said they went back to the ho.use, 
where, somewhat to their relief, Miss Oliver made no 
allusion to the affair, and they proceeded quietly to eat 
breakfast. 

“ Are there any spring salmon in the river ? ” she 
asked presently, looking across at Harry. 

“ Yes,” he responded, “ there are a few coming up.” 

“ Then you might take Frank with you this morning 
and try to get me one. I dare say Jake will smoke it.” 
Miss Oliver smiled at Frank. “ You don’t get salmon 
prepared that way back East.” 

“ We have it canned,” said Frank. “ I’ve an idea 
I’ve seen some smoked, but I can’t remember. Is it very 
nice? I thought you didn’t care for salmon here.” 

“ Fresh salmon,” Jake said curtly, “ is only good for 
hogs, and if you keep it long enough, for growing pota- 
toes with. Still,” he added thoughtfully, “ I don’t know 
that you call it fresh then.” 

Miss Oliver laughed. “ Wait until you try it smoked 
— as Jake does it. He can prepare it as some of the 
Siwash do. I believe they taught him in British Colum- 
bia.” 

Jake shook his head solemnly. “ No,” he said, “ I 
can’t cure salmon as some of the Indians do. You’d 
get nothing like it in a New York hotel, but I guess 
I can dress it ’most as well as any white man. You go 
along and get me a fish, Harry. I’d try the pool by 
the big fall.” 

They set out a few minutes later, taking with them a 
pole which had a big iron hook lashed to it and a long 
Indian salmon spear. There was a small fork at one 


84 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


end of the latter on which were placed two nicely made 
bone barbs attached to the haft by strips of sinew. Harry 
removed them to show Frank that they would slip off 
their sockets easily. Leaving the clearing, they struck 
into a narrow trail through the bush, and after half an 
hour’s scramble over fallen logs and through thick fern 
they reached the river. 

It poured frothing out of shadowy forest and leaped 
over a rock ledge in a thundering fall, beneath which 
it swirled around a deep basin, and then after sweeping 
down a white rapid, spread out over a wide belt of 
stones. There were rocks on either side of it, and, as 
the trees could find no hold on them, warm sunlight 
streamed down upon the foaming water. Harry sat 
down on a ledge above the pool with the spear beside 
him and pointed to a great bird wheeling on slanted 
wings above the shallow. 

“ A fish eagle,” he said. “ Here are salmon making 
up.” 

Frank watched the circling of the majestic bird, which 
did not seem much afraid of them. It had a white head 
and a cruel beak, and once when it swept over him he 
noticed the fixed gaze of its cold, impassive eye. Splen- 
did as it was, he somehow shrank from the thing. It 
looked so powerful and utterly merciless. When it 
stopped in the air, dropped, and struck, he saw a 
splash as a writhing, silvery creature was snatched up in 
its talons. 

“ Got him wrong ! ” cried Harry. “ You watch. 
Tie’ll have to let go again.” 

So far as Frank could see, the eagle had seized the 
salmon by the middle of its back, the fish twisting itself 
crossways as it was carried up into the air. The next 
moment there was a splash in the water and the bird 
swooped down again. When it rose it held its prey dif- 
ferently, and Frank fancied he could see one wicked claw 
gripping the fish close by the back of its neck, while the 


SALMON SPEARING 


85 


other was spread out toward its tail. In any case, the 
salmon did not seem able to wriggle now, and the eagle 
flew off with it and vanished among the tops of the black 
firs. 

“ Not a big fish, but I’ve a notion the eagle could lift 
a thing as heavy as itself,” said Harry. “ They’re mighty 
powerful. It might be the one he dropped, though I 
think it’s another.” 

Frank had no idea how much an eagle weighed, but 
he realized something of the capabilities of a bird that 
could carry off this fish apparently without an effort, 
and, what was more astonishing, drag the tremendously 
muscular creature out of the water which was its home. 
Then his companion touched his shoulder. 

“ Watch those two fellows in the eddy,” said he. 
“They’re going to rush the fall.” 

Frank saw two slim shadows shoot out beneath a 
wreath of circling foam and flash — which seemed the 
best word for it — through the crystal depths of the 
slacker part of the pool. They were lost in the snowy 
turmoil near the foot of the fall, and a few minutes 
passed before he saw them again. Then one shot out 
of the water like a bow that had suddenly straightened 
itself, gleamed resplendent with silver, and plunged into 
the foam again. Harry pointed him out the other, and 
though it was a moment or two before he could see it 
he marveled when he did. It had its dusky back toward 
him, for now and then the dorsal fin rose clear, and it 
was swimming up a thin cascade which poured down a 
steep slope of stone. That any creature should have 
strength enough to stem that rush of water seemed 
incredible, but there was no doubt that the fish was 
ascending inch by inch. Then it found a momentary 
harbor in a little pool just outside the main leap of the 
fall, and shot out of it again with its curious uncurving 
spring. Frank watched it eagerly when it dropped into 
the fall, and it was with a sense of sympathy that he 


86 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


saw its gallant efforts wasted as it was suddenly swept 
down. Before reaching the bottom, however, it had 
evidently rallied all its powers, for it flashed clear into 
the sunlight, and had recovered a fathom when he lost 
sight of it once more. 

After that he glanced back toward the shallows and 
saw that other birds had appeared. He did not know 
what they were, and Harry could only tell him that 
they were fishhawks of some kind. As he watched them 
wheeling or stooping, dropping upon the sparkling stream, 
and screaming now and then, the boy began to form 
some idea of the desperate battle for existence that is 
fought daily and hourly by the lower creation. 

“ There don’t seem to be a great many salmon,” he 
remarked. 

“ It’s a thin run,” said Harry. “ There’ll probably be 
more of them in the next one. Once upon a time, as 
I expect you’ve heard, these rivers were so thick with 
fish that you could walk across their backs, though I’ll 
allow I’ve never seen anything of that kind.” 

Frank was not astonished at the last admission. This 
brown-skinned, clear-eyed boy, who could sail a boat 
and hold the rifle straight, was not one to talk of the 
wonderful things he had seen and done. He left that to 
the whisky-faced sports of the saloons who were prob- 
ably capable of butchering a crippled deer at fifty yards 
with the repeater. 

“ I suppose the salmon have plenty enemies,” he sug- 
gested. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Harry. “ In the sea the seals and 
porpoises get their share of them. Then, as they head 
for the rivers, there are the fish traps, and in Canada 
the seine-net boats along the shore. After that when 
they’re in fresh water they have to run the gauntlet 
of the Indians, birds, and bears.” 

“ Bears?” Frank interrupted. 

“ Sure,” said Harry. “ They’re quite smart fishers. 


SALMON SPEARING 


87 


Even the little minks get some of the salmon stranded 
in the shallow pools. The Indians set long baskets, 
narrow end downward, for them near the top of the 
falls. These, of course, are fresh from salt-water — 
you can see they’re silvery — but they lose that bright- 
ness as they go up the larger rivers, and on the Columbia 
and Fraser they push on hundreds of miles, up tre- 
mendous canons, up falls and rapids, toward the Rockies. 
Those that fetch headwaters are scarred and battered, 
with the bright scales and most of their fins and tails 
worn right off them. Once they’re through with the 
spawning they die.” 

“Then they go straight to the place where they 
spawn ? ” 

“ Yes, the salmon’s really a seafish. It’s bom in fresh 
water, but it goes down to the ocean as soon as it’s 
big enough, and it’s generally believed that it stays there 
three or four years, though it’s a fact that we know 
mighty little about the salmon yet. Then it comes back 
to the same place and spawns and dies. You see, there’s 
a constant succession coming up.” He broke off with 
a laugh. “ Now we’ll try to get one. There are three 
or four big fellows yonder. All you have to do is to 
slash at them with the hook.” 

Frank perched himself upon a jutting shelf of rock, 
and presently two or three swift shadows flitted by. 
He swung up the pole and made a sudden sweep at 
them, only to see the hook splash two or three feet behind 
the last one’s tail. Incidentally, he came very near to 
going headforemost into the pool. Then another fish 
swept toward him, and this time he landed the hook 
some inches in front of its nose, after which he made 
several more attempts, succeeding only in splashing him- 
self all over. He was beginning to discover that his 
hands and eyes needed a good deal of training. One, it 
seemed, must judge speed and distance and strike simul- 
taneously, but the trouble was that he needed a second 


88 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


or two to think, and, naturally, while he thought the 
fish got away. 

By and by he turned and watched Harry, who had 
not struck once yet. He stood upon a ledge, alert, 
strung-up, and steady-eyed, but absolutely motionless, 
with the long spear running up above his shoulder. At 
last, however, he drove his right arm down and the beau- 
tiful, straight shaft sank into the pool. It stopped sud- 
denly for a second, quivering, and then bent and twisted 
upward in the boy’s clenched hands. 

Frank ran toward him, wondering that the slender 
shaft did not immediately break, when he observed that 
one barb had slipped off its socket and that the fish, 
struck by it, was now held by the short length of sinew. 
A moment or two later Harry jerked it out upon the 
bank by a quick vertical movement and knocked it on 
the head. It lay still after this, a beautiful creature of 
some seven or eight pounds, with the sunlight gleaming 
on its silver scales. Frank glanced once more at the 
long spear. It occurred to him that this was also perfect 
in its way and could not have been better adapted to 
its purpose. 

“ It’s curious that an Indian should be able to make 
a thing like that,” he remarked. “ I don’t think a white 
man could turn out anything as handy, unless, of course, 
he had one to copy.” 

“ The point is that it took the Siwash a mighty long 
while to make the salmon spear,” said Harry. “ It’s quite 
likely they spent two hundred years over it. Their spears 
are all on the same pattern, so are their traps and 
canoes.” Seeing a puzzled look cross Frank’s face, he 
smiled. “ An Indian is no smarter than a white man — 
in fact, when you stop to think of it, he’s not half as 
smart, though most everything he makes is excellent. It’s 
this way. If we want a saw for a new purpose or a dif- 
ferent kind of wood, we write to the Disston people or 
somebody of the kind and they set their boss designer 



HARRY STOOD ABSOLUTELY MOTIONLESS ” — Page 88 






SALMON SPEARING 


89 


to work. He considers, and then because he knows all 
about the physical sciences he draws the thing on paper 
and sends it to the forges or grinding shops. In a gen- 
eral way, that saw does its work, though I guess if the 
designer had to use it for a year or two he’d make the 
next one better. ,, 

“ Of course,” agreed Frank. 

“ It’s different with the Indians,” Harry continued. 
“ One fellow made a fish spear ever so long ago and 
found that it wouldn’t do. He made the next one dif- 
ferent and was satisfied with it, but his son made it 
a little longer and thinner. Then his grandson altered 
the barb, and his son added another one. After that 
each fellow made it a little handier, until nothing more 
could be done to it, and they stuck to the pattern.” He 
turned and glanced at the spear. “ This thing is the 
product of the skill of ever so many generations.” 

It was simple but convincing, for it explained the 
efficiency of the Indian’s tools, and also why he had not 
progressed. He worked along the same line, sticking to 
one simple implement until he had perfected it, and, 
though this was his greatest disadvantage, the man who 
killed the fish generally made the spear. He got so far 
and stopped, content, and incapable of going any farther. 
The white man, on the other hand, changed his methods 
continually with his changing needs and, what counted 
more than all, he very seldom made the tools he used, 
because he had discovered that somebody who did noth- 
ing else could make them better. When the Americans 
of the Pacific Slope wanted salmon they did not whittle 
spears, but sent east to the cordage factories, whose 
owners brought in fibers from all over the world and 
spun the netting with which to build gigantic fish traps. 

“We could do with another fish,” ventured Harry. 
“ Let’s see if you can get one.” 

Frank took up his pole again. It was a heavy and 
clumsy affair, but Harry had told him that he would 


90 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


probably break the Indian spear. They waited awhile 
until another swift shadow swept around with the eddy 
beneath their feet. 

“ Hold on ! ” cried Harry. “ Wait till the stream 
heads him and then strike as quick as you can.” 

The fish’s speed was checked for a moment as it entered 
the furious rush beneath the fall, and Frank, who could 
just see its dusky back amidst the foam, swung his pole. 
There was a splash and then a curious shock which sent 
a thrill through him, and the haft jerked sharply in his 
hands. 

“ Heave him out!” cried Harry. “That thing won’t 
break.” 

Frank tugged with all his might and the salmon flew 
up over his shoulder. The next moment he had seized 
it and was almost reluctant to let it go when his com- 
panion clubbed it on the head. 

“ Two’s as many as we have any use for and we’ll 
go along,” said the latter. “We haven’t made much of 
a show at that draining lately.” 

Frank would have preferred to stay where he was, 
but he followed Harry toward the bush, and soon after 
they struck a cleared trail to the ranch, which was, how- 
ever, not the way they had come. A little later they 
were somewhat astonished to see a group of figures 
among the trees, and hurrying forward they found Mr. 
Oliver and Mr. Barclay talking to Jake, who apparently 
had been driving home two or three steers. 

Mr. Oliver, looking unusually grave, nodded to the 
boys. “ We have just met Jake,” he said. “ He tells 
me Tillicum’s back a little way up the trail with a broken 
leg.” 

“ I guess he’s done,” murmured Jake, adding signifi- 
cantly, “ I wouldn’t have left him like that if I’d had 
a gun.” 

“ Go on with the steers,” said Mr. Oliver. “ We’ll 
turn back.” 


SALMON SPEARING 


91 


The boys accompanied him and Mr. Barclay, and 
leaving the trail by and by where the bush was thinner 
they stopped before a pitiable sight. It was Tillicum 
who stood awkwardly before them, his head lowered 
and one leg that seemed distorted out of its usual shape 
hanging limp. Caked mire was spattered about the poor 
animal, its coat was foul, and every line of its body 
seemed expressive of pain and exhaustion. As it raised 
its drooping head and looked at them pitifully, Frank 
felt a thrill of hot anger against the outlaws who were 
responsible for its condition. Mr. Oliver stepped up to 
the horse and gently felt of its injured limb, after which 
he turned abruptly toward Mr. Barclay and Frank no- 
ticed that his face was set. 

“ There’s only one thing to be done,” he said. “ Have 
you a pistol ? ” 

“ Haven’t you ? ” his companion asked with a slight 
trace of astonishment in his tone. 

“If I’d had one would I have wanted to borrow 
yours?” retorted Mr. Oliver. 

“Well,” said Mr. Barclay, “it’s seldom I carry one, 
but in this case it seemed advisable.” He put his hand 
into his pocket. “ Here you are. It’s a big caliber.” 

Mr. Oliver took the weapon and held it behind him, 
and turning back toward the horse, gently stroked its 
head. Then there was a flash and detonation, and the 
beast dropped like a stone. After a moment the rancher 
turned around with a very curious look in his eyes, with 
the smoking weapon clenched hard in his hand. 

“ I’ve had that faithful animal six years,” he said in 
a harsh voice. “ We’ll get away.” 

They walked on in silence for a while, and then Mr. 
Barclay spoke. 

“ The breaking of its leg was probably an accident,” 
he suggested. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Oliver. “ It’s possible he broke it 
after they turned him loose, but that doesn’t seem to 


92 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

affect the case” He paused and looked around at his 
companion. “ You understand that I’m with you right 
through this thing.” 

Nothing more was said until they approached the 
ranch, when Mr. Oliver turned to the boys. 

“ 111 take the fish,” he said. “ You can go on with 
whatever you were doing.” 

They moved away toward the drain, and when they 
reached it Harry stood still a moment or two. 

“ It’s a long while since I’ve seen dad look half so 
mad,” he said. “ When he sets his face that way it’s 
sure to mean trouble. Anyway, when I saw Tillicum I 
felt kind of boiling over — as well as sorry.” 

“ Did you notice what Mr. Barclay said about the 
pistol?” Frank asked. 

“ Why, of course,” said Harry thoughtfully. “ Now 
I don’t know what they’ve been after, but it’s plain 
enough that there was some danger in the thing. Mr. 
Barclay doesn’t seem extra smart, but there’s some- 
thing in his look that suggests he wouldn’t be easy scared, 
and he took a pistol along.” Then he laughed in a sig- 
nificant manner and jumped down into the trench. “ It’s 
my idea those dope fellows are going to be sorry before 
dad gets through with them, and now we’ll go on with 
the draining.” 

He fell to with the grubhoe and for the next half hour 
worked furiously, after which Jake appeared and called 
them in to dinner, 


CHAPTER IX 


A PLAIN HINT 

M R. OLIVER bought another horse from one of 
his scattered neighbors, and a few days afterward 
he an Jake set off for an inlet along the coast near 
which a few ranchers lived. Harry explained to Frank 
that as they clubbed together and bought their supplies 
from Seattle a little steamer from the latter place called 
at the inlet now and then to deliver the goods, and his 
father had ordered a mower which was to be sent down 
by her. 

Mr. Oliver did not come back until late in the evening 
a couple of days later, but as soon as he arrived he and 
Jake set to work to put the machine together, and it was 
getting dusk when at last they left it standing beneath 
the trees near the edge of a ravine. Early on the fol- 
lowing morning the boys went back with them to see if 
it would work satisfactorily in cutting a little green 
timothy, but as they crossed the clearing Jake, who was 
leading the team a little distance in front of his com- 
panions, stopped suddenly. 

“ You didn’t go back and move that machine after 
we left it?” he asked. 

“ No,” replied Mr. Oliver. “ What made you think 
I did?” 

Jake looked at his employer rather curiously. “ Well,” 
he said, “ somebody must have moved it. The thing’s 
gone.” 

Mr. Oliver broke into a run and the rest followed. 
When they reached the clump of trees they could dis- 
cover no sign of the mower, except for the track of 

9S 


94 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


wheels among the withered needles and undergrowth. 
This led toward the ravine, at the bottom of which a 
little water flowed, and Frank saw Mr. Oliver’s face 
harden as he followed this guide. A minute later they 
stood on the brink of the declivity and saw the mower 
lying upon its side among the stones thirty or forty feet 
below them. The slope was almost precipitous, but 
Mr. Oliver went down sliding amidst a rush of loosened 
soil, and Frank and Harry with some difficulty scram- 
bled down after him. A glance was sufficient to show 
them that the implement was not likely to be of the least 
use to its owner. Mr. Oliver examined it quietly and 
then clambered back up the side of the ravine, after 
which he sat down and took out his pipe before he 
turned to Jake. 

“ Every bit of cast-iron in it is smashed/’ he said. 
“ The pinion wheels are broken, and the other parts 
are bent. I’ll have to order another one.” 

Jake made a gesture of sympathy. 

“ If I could get hold of the folks who did the thing 
it would be a consolation, but I haven’t the least notion 
how to trail them.” 

“ One man couldn’t have moved it,” said Mr. Oliver. 

“ There were three of them. The question is, what 
brought them here? I guess they didn’t come just to 
smash the machine.” 

Mr. Oliver seemed lost a moment in contemplation. 

“ I think you’re right,” he said at length. “ They 
probably came because this is the easiest way of getting 
through to the settlements in the Basker district and 
the beach behind the head makes a handy landing. We’ll 
go along and look around. I don’t think they’d try 
the cove. It’s too near the house.” 

They turned into a bush trail together, and when they 
reached the beach a little while later Jake, stooping over 
a furrow in the smooth shingle by the water’s edge, 
looked up at Mr. Oliver, 


A PLAIN HINT 


95 


“ A sea canoe grounded here soon after last high 
water/’ he said. “ You can see where they ran her 
down when it had ebbed a little.” 

Mr. Oliver, who was still quietly smoking, nodded. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ it’s very much as I expected. With 
a sheltered landing here and as good a trail inland as 
they could find, it’s not difficult to understand why those 
fellows were anxious that I should stand in with them, 
or, at least, leave them alone. This thing, of course, 
was meant as a warning.” Then he addressed the boys : 
“ You needn’t wait. You can get some more of those 
branches sawed off in the slashing.” 

They moved away and left him talking to Jake, and 
it was not until they had reached the bush that Harry 
made any observation. 

“ I’ve a notion that we’re up against the meanest kind 
of toughs, but in the long run I’ll back dad,” he said. 
“ It’s quite likely that if we lie low you and I may get 
a hand in later on.” 

Frank made no answer, though the prospect his com- 
panion suggested was not unpleasant to him. Going 
back to their work they sawed up branches until night- 
fall. On the following afternoon they were still en- 
gaged at the same task at some distance from the house 
when they saw Jake, who had set out for a neighboring 
ranch in the morning, enter the clearing, dragging a big 
and evidently very unwilling animal after him. He sat 
down upon a log, and Harry dropped his ax. 

“ It’s Webster’s dog,” he said to Frank. “ I heard 
that somebody had given him one. We’ll go along and 
look at him.” 

They found Jake rather breathless and very red in 
face, holding the end of a chain fastened to the collar 
of the dog, who crouched close by watching him with 
wicked eyes and white fangs bared. A serviceable club 
lay beside Jake, but it seemed to Frank that he had got 
as far away from the animal as the chain permitted. 


96 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


The lad was, however, not astonished at this, for he 
fancied he had never seen as intractable and generally 
unprepossessing a dog as this one. 

“Dad’s borrowed him from Webster?” Harry sug- 
gested. 

“ It seemed to me Webster was mighty glad to get rid 
of him and didn’t want him back,” said Jake. “ Guess 
if he was mine I wouldn’t be anxious to keep him either.” 

Frank moved a pace or two nearer the dog, holding 
out his hand, but speedily retired when it growled at 
him savagely. After that Jake turned to Harry. 

“ You’re fond of dogs,” he suggested. “ Wouldn’t 
you like to pat him ? ” 

“ No,” said Harry, edging away. “ I wouldn’t try 
it for five dollars. What kind of a brute is he?” 

“ Well,” said Jake, “ I figure that fellow has a con- 
siderable mixture of ancestors, though there’s a strain 
of the bull in him. That’s where he got his stylish 
mouth from. He’s about as amiable as a timber-wolf, 
and he has the gait of a bear, while it’s my opinion 
there’s more sense in a plow ox than there is in him.” 

“When did you leave Webster’s?” Harry next in- 
quired. 

“ Soon as dinner was over,” responded Jake dryly. 

“And supper will be ready soon. What in the name 
of wonder have you been doing? ” Harry looked around 
at Frank. “ It’s about three miles.” 

Jake grinned. “Coming along — and resting. This 
fellow kind of decided he’d sit down every now and then, 
and I let him. He’s a dog that’s been accustomed to 
doing just what he wants.” 

“ Did you have to cross the creek ? ” asked Frank, who 
noticed that the man’s long boots and part of his trousers 
were wet. 

“ No,” said Jake curtly. “ The critter took a notion 
he’d like to go in, and as I couldn’t let him loose, I had 


A PLAIN HINT 


97 


to go in, too. We splashed around in it for quite a few 
minutes.” 

Harry broke into a burst of laughter and Jake handed 
him the club. “ I want to get in by supper. Suppose 
you put a move on him.” 

He stood up and jerked the chain, but the dog bared 
his teeth again and declined to stir. Harry, getting 
behind him, tapped him with the club, and he swung 
round savagely, straining at the chain. 

“ Now,” said Jake, “ I know how we’ll fix him. You 
make him mad and then head for the ranch while he 
gets after you, and I’ll try to hold him.” 

“ No,” said Harry decisively, “ I don’t think we’ll 
try that way. Go on and lead him.” 

The animal moved off at last and shambled toward the 
house, looking bigger and considerably more clumsy than 
the largest bulldog Frank had ever seen. He walked 
into the kitchen docilely, but when Miss Oliver ap- 
proached him Harry cried out in dismay. 

“ Keep away ! ” he warned. “ He isn’t safe.” 

“ Loose the chain,” said Miss Oliver, and to their vast 
astonishment the dog walked up to her, wagging his dis- 
reputable tail, and crouching down, licked her hands. 
She patted his great head gently and then turned smil- 
ingly to the boys. 

“ I’m afraid Webster has been rough with him,” she 
said. <f It’s clear that he’s a woman’s dog.” 

“A woman’s dog?” echoed Harry scathingly. 
“ Well, the man who gave that beast to a woman must 
have been crazy.” 

During the next few days the dog made himself at 
home at the ranch, though with the exception of Miss 
Oliver he still eyed its inhabitants suspiciously. Jake 
said that though almost fully grown he was young and 
had no sense yet. Then the dog commenced to follow 
the boys about at a distance, and once fell upon and 


9S BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


destroyed their overall jackets which they had taken off 
when they went to work. They found him sitting upon 
the tatters, evidently feeling proud of himself, for he 
wagged his tail and barked delightedly when they ap- 
proached. As a rule, he did not make much noise, but 
his growl was deep and ominous, with something in it 
that discouraged any attempt at undue familiarity. 

While they were ruefully inspecting their ruined gar- 
ments Jake came up and leaned against a neighboring 
tree. 

“He wants training, Harry,” he observed. “If he 
was my dog, I’d break him in.” 

“ The question,” retorted Harry indignantly, “ is how 
it’s to be done. I’ll own up that I know very little about 
training dogs, and that’s not the kind of one I’d like to 
begin on.” He turned to Frank. “ Considering that a 
good many of the ranchers live almost alone, it’s rather 
a curious thing that there are very few dogs in this 
part of the country.” 

Jake fixed his eyes dubiously upon the animal, who 
trotted up a little nearer and growled at him. 

“ Well,” he said, “ he’s sure a daisy, but I guess he 
can be taught, and the first thing is to let him see you’re 
not afraid of him.” 

Harry snickered. “ Then suppose you try to prove it. 
Haul him up by the ear and teach him he’s not to eat 
my jacket.” 

Jake judiciously disregarded this suggestion. “ There’s 
one trick most dogs learn quite easy. It’s to guard. You 
put down some of your clothes, for instance, and make 
him see that nobody’s to touch them until you come back. 
Then he’ll sit tight until you do, and I guess in this 
fellow’s case there’d be mighty little wrong with the 
nerves of the man who’d put a hand on them.” 

“ If it’s to be clothes they’ll have to be somebody 
else’s,” said Harry. “Anyway, I’ll mention it to my 


A PLAIN HINT 


99 

aunt. It’s my opinion she’s the only person who could 
teach him anything.” 

How Miss Oliver taught the dog they did not know, 
but she succeeded, for when the boys walked up to the 
house at supper time one evening a week or two later 
Harry, who reached the door first, came out hurriedly. 

“ The brute won’t let me in,” he explained. “ I con- 
fess it sounds kind of silly, but perhaps you’d like to 
try.” 

Frank approached the door cautiously and stopped 
when he reached it. The dog crouched near the center 
of the kitchen floor, with a woman’s straw hat in front 
of him from which there trailed a couple of chewed-up 
feathers. He looked up at Frank with a low, warning 
growl which said very plainly, “ Come no farther ! ” 

They called him endearing names, which, so far as they 
could see, had not the least effect, but neither of them 
felt equal to entering the kitchen until Miss Oliver 
walked in by another door. Then the dog let her take 
the hat, wagging his tail with satisfaction. 

“ He’s a good deal more intelligent than you seem to 
think,” she said. “ Give him your hat, Harry, and 
then go out and wait for a few minutes before you come 
back for it.” 

Harry did so, and the dog made no trouble when he 
picked up the hat, but he would not let Frank go near 
it in the meanwhile. After that they tried two or three 
more experiments of the same kind, though Frank took 
no part in them, which was a thing he regretted when 
he went for a swim an evening or two later. 

On this occasion the tide was almost full, the water 
in the cove was pleasantly warm and bright sunlight 
streamed down upon it, showing the white shingle a 
fathom beneath the surface. Now and then Frank went 
down toward it, for he had learned to swim under water 
and look about him while he did so, but by and by he 


100 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


headed for the entrance to the cove with the overhand 
side stroke which Harry had taught him. Swinging his 
left arm forward over his head, his face dipped under 
and then rose in the midst of a ripple as his hollowed 
palm swept backward under his crooked elbow to his 
thigh, while his legs swung across each other like a pair 
of scissors. The brine gleamed and sparkled as it slipped 
past him, and when he reached the entrance to the cove 
he slid up and down the smooth, green undulations with 
a pleasant lift and fall. It was so exhilarating that he 
went farther than he had intended, and he was feeling 
a little breathless when at last he turned back, but when 
he reached the spot where he had undressed trouble 
awaited him. 

The dog was seated upon his clothing, watching him 
with suspicious eyes, and it growled when he stood up 
knee-deep. Frank hesitated. The dog did not look 
amiable, but he was beginning to feel cold, and he walked 
slowly forward a pace or two. Then the creature raised 
itself on its forepaws, with white fangs bare, and once 
more broke into a deep, ominous growl. There was no 
doubt that it intended to guard his clothes. 

He threw a piece of shingle at it and was glad on 
the whole that he had not succeeded in hitting it when 
it stood up with bristling hair and a most determined 
look in its eyes. Frank floundered back into the water, 
wondering uneasily if it was coming in after him, and 
then standing still up to his waist considered what he 
should do. It was evident that he could not stay where 
he was much longer, and the dog showed no sign of 
going away. It was equally impossible for him to walk 
back to the ranch without his clothes, and in the mean- 
while he was growing unpleasantly chilly. Then he no- 
ticed that although the shadow of the crags above rested 
upon the spot where he stood the sunshine fell upon a 
boulder which rose out of the water not far away. 
Swimming to it he crawled out and found it a little 


A PLAIN HINT 


101 


warmer there, but this brought him no nearer to finding 
a way out of the difficulty. 

He did not remember how long he lay shivering upon 
the stone, but the shadow had crept across it and the 
tall firs above him showed up more blackly against the 
evening light, when at last Harry came clattering over 
the shingle and stopped in astonishment on seeing him. 

“ Whatever are you doing there ? ” he asked. 

“ Waiting until your dog goes home,” said Frank. 
“ He won’t let me have my clothes. If you hadn’t come 
I expect I’d have to stay here until to-morrow.” 

Harry couldn’t help grinning when he observed the 
resolute animal. “ Wouldn’t it have been easier to come 
out and whack him off ? ” 

“ No,” said Frank decidedly. “ If you were in my 
place you wouldn’t want to try.” 

Harry walked up to the creature and picked up the 
clothes, whereat it rose immediately and wagged its tail 
as though satisfied in having done its duty. 

“ He doesn’t seem to mind me,” Harry observed 
dryly. “ Anyway, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t 
come out now unless, of course, you’re happier where 
you are.” 

Frank swam across, dressed, and ran all the way 
to the ranch, but it was half an hour before he was mod- 
erately warm again. The next day he set about teaching 
the dog to guard. It occurred to him that it was not 
desirable that Harry and Miss Oliver should be the only 
ones to whom the animal would give any stray article 
of clothing he might come across. 

A week or two later Miss Oliver went away on a 
visit to Tacoma, and Mr. Oliver, who had bought a new 
mower, commenced to cut his timothy hay. The machine 
could only work on the cleared land, and where the 
stumps were thick he set the boys to mow with the 
scythe. Frank found it troublesome work, for the big 
roots ran along the surface of the ground. The fern 


102 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


had grown up among these roots, and it was their task 
to cut and pick it out from the grass, while every few 
minutes the scythe point struck a root and sometimes 
stuck in it. In places it struck gravel, which made dents 
in it, and the blade often got entangled among shooting 
willows and young fir saplings. Frank decided that while 
it was evidently a costly and difficult thing to clear a 
ranch, it must be almost as hard for its owner to keep 
what he had won, since the forest persistently crept 
back again. 

“ Suppose you left this place alone for a couple of 
years?” he asked, stopping to whet his dinted scythe. 

“ You wouldn’t know it again,” Harry answered with 
a smile. “ It would be a waste of willows, with young 
firs growing up between them. You couldn’t tell it from 
the bush, only that the trees all round would be higher.” 

Frank dropped his scythe blade and leaned upon the 
haft. He had been mowing since sunrise, and the shad- 
ows were now rapidly lengthening. His back ached and 
his hands were sore, and he found it a relief to stand 
still a moment and look about him. On one side of the 
clearing the slanting sunrays struck deep into the forest, 
forcing up great cdlumnar trunks out of the shadow. 
On the other, the fretted pinnacles of the firs cut sharp 
against the sky, and between stretched long swathes of 
fallen timothy and fern already turning yellow. Not 
far away, Mr. Oliver, sitting in the mower’s saddle, was 
guiding his team along the edge of the grass which fell 
beneath the rasping knife, and the clink and rattle of the 
machine rang sharply through the still, evening air. 
Frank, stripped to blue shirt and trousers, found every- 
thing his eyes rested on pleasant, and he felt that, after 
all, he had done wisely when he left the cities. 

Then he noticed Jake, who had been to the settlement, 
crossing the clearing with some letters in his hand. He 
gave them to Mr. Oliver, who pulled his team up and 


A PLAIN HINT 


103 


sat still for some minutes reading them. After that he 
stepped out and walked toward the boys. 

“ You might take the team along, Harry, and put 
the kettle on the stove,” he said. “ We’ll have supper as 
soon as it’s ready.” 

Harry moved away and Mr. Oliver leaned against a 
neighboring stump with his eyes fixed thoughtfully on 
Frank. 

“ I’ve a letter from your mother,” he said. “ She 
wants to know if I’m satisfied with you.” He paused a 
moment and added with a smile : “ That’s a question I 
think I can answer in the affirmative.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Frank. 

“ Then,” Mr. Oliver continued, “ she goes into one or 
two other matters on which she seems to want my opin- 
ion. In the first place, somebody has offered to find 
you an opening in the office of a Philadelphia business 
firm. You’ll have to decide about it, and it seems to 
me that the choice is rather a big one. You see, if you 
stay out here ranching two or three years it will prob- 
ably spoil you for a business life in the eastern cities.” 

Frank thought hard for a minute or two. There was 
no doubt that ranching, when it included clearing land, 
as it generally seemed to do, was remarkably arduous 
work. In the case of a man with little money it evi- 
dently meant almost incessant toil, for it was only by 
persistent effort that one could chop and saw up the 
great trees and grub the stumps out. Still, he was grow- 
ing fond of it, and, what was more, he was conscious 
that he was gaining a resolution and muscular vigor 
that in all probability he would never have acquired in 
the crowded cities. 

Finally he looked up. “ I don’t think I would care to 
go back to them now,” he said. 

Mr. Oliver nodded gravely. “ Your mother doesn’t 
seem to think a great deal of this opening, but, on the 


104 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


other hand, you want to bear in mind that if you expect 
to make money in ranching you must be able to invest 
it. Raising cattle and fruit for sale is a trade, and a 
trader gets no more than a certain interest on his money 
and the wages which an equally capable managing clerk 
or foreman in the same profession would receive. There 
are few respectable businesses in which that interest is 
a very big one. As the result of this, the trader must 
be content with a little unless he has the money to earn 
him more.” 

“.Yes,” said Frank somewhat ruefully, “that’s clear. 
I’m afraid I can hardly count on much.” 

“ Your mother mentions that when you are three or 
four years older she might perhaps be able to raise you 
about two thousand dollars.” 

“ I suppose that wouldn’t go very far, sir ? ” 

“ It certainly wouldn’t buy you a ranch anywhere near 
a city, but you might get land enough to make a small 
one back in the bush. If you bought such a place, you 
would probably have to go out and work at one of the 
sawmills or logging camps now and then. It would be 
several years before you could make much of a living, 
because it would cost you so much to bring your stock 
to market.” 

“ Yes,” said Frank. “ I suppose that is why the land 
would be cheap ? ” 

Mr. Oliver made a sign of assent. “ It’s a difficulty 
which is, however, usually got over in this country. 
You hold on and cultivate your land, and by and by the 
market comes to you. Somebody starts a sawmill or 
a pulp mill in the locality, or, if there’s ore about, a 
smelter. New trails are cut, settlements spring up, and 
presently a branch railroad comes along, and the rancher 
can sell everything he can raise.” He broke off for a 
moment, and smiled rather dryly. “ In such a case you 
may get big prices, but if you average them out over the 
years of working and waiting, you’ll find you have earned 


A PLAIN HINT 


105 


them, and that, after all, the stuff you sell is mighty 
cheap.” 

Then he handed Frank the letter. “ I’d consider it 
carefully. The mail won’t leave for the next three days, 
and now we’ll go along to supper.” 

Harry had managed to prepare a meal, and when it 
was over Mr. Oliver turned to the boys. 

“ A friend of mine in Victoria has written asking me to 
look at a big piece of bush land he thinks of buying 
on the west coast of Vancouver Island. He offers to 
pay my expenses and a fee, and I’ve an idea that we 
might run across in the sloop if we get moderately fine 
weather after the hay is in. I wonder if you would 
like to go with me ? ” 

There was no doubt that the prospect appealed to them 
and Mr. Oliver smiled his approval. 

“ Then,” he said, “ you had better hustle that hay in. 
We’ll start as soon as we’re through with it.” 


CHAPTER X 


A BREEZE OF WIND 

T HE hay was almost in when Frank and Harry stood 
one evening close under the apex of the roof in 
the log barn. The crop was heavy and because the barn 
was small it had been their business during the after- 
noon to spread and trample down the grass Jake flung 
up to them. They had been working at high pressure at 
one task or another since soon after daylight that morn- 
ing, and now the confined space was very hot, though 
the sun was low. Its slanting rays smote the cedar 
shingles above their bent heads, and the dust that rose 
from the grass floated about them in a cloud and clung 
to their dripping faces. Frank felt that the veins on 
his forehead were swollen when they paused a moment 
for breath, leaning on their forks. 

“ I suppose we could get a couple more loads in, and 
there can’t be more than that,” said Harry dubiously. 
“ I wouldn’t mind a great deal if the next jumper ful 
upset.” 

Frank devoutly wished it would, for he felt that he 
must get out into the open air, but a few moments later 
they heard the plodding oxen’s feet and the groaning of 
the clumsy sled. The sounds ceased abruptly and Jake’s 
voice reached them. 

“Tramp it down good I” he called. “You’ve got to 
squeeze in this lot and another.” 

Frank choked down the answer which rose to his lips. 
But the hay must be got in, and the boys fell with their 
forks upon the first of the crackling grass Jake flung up 
to them. There seemed to be more dust in it than usual, 
106 


A BREEZE OF WIND 


107 


and before the jumper was half unloaded they were pant- 
ing heavily. When at last the oxen hauled the sled 
away they stood doubled up knee-deep in the hay with 
their backs close against the roof. 

“ I can’t see how we’re to make room for the last 
lot,” Harry gasped. “ Still, I guess it has to be done.” 

They set to work again, packing the hay into corners 
and stamping it down, and his occupation reminded 
Frank of what he had heard about mining in a thin 
seam of coal. It seemed hotter than ever, the dust was 
choking, and at every incautious move he bumped his 
head or shoulders against the beams The last sled 
arrived before they were ready for it, and they crawled 
about half buried, dragging the grass here and there with 
their hands and ramming it with their feet and knees 
into any odd spaces left. At length the work was fin- 
ished, and wriggling toward the opening in the wall, 
Harry caught at the edge of it and finding a foothold 
on a log beneath boldly leaped down. Frank was, how- 
ever, less fortunate when he followed his companion, 
for some of the hay slipped away beneath him, and, 
without the least intention of leaving the barn in that 
undignified fashion, he suddenly shot out through the 
hole. He felt the air rush past him, and then, some- 
what to his astonishment, found himself on the ground, 
none the worse except for the jar of the fall. 

“ If I’d tried to do that it’s very likely I’d have broken 
my leg,” he panted. 

He sat down and threw off his hat. It was delightful 
to feel the breeze upon his dripping face and to be out 
in the fresh air again. He had been at work for four- 
teen hours, and was aching all over, but that did not 
trouble him. The hay was safely in, and there was some 
satisfaction in the feeling that he had done his part in 
a heavy piece of work. Looking about him he noticed 
that the shadow of the firs had crept half across the 
clearing, and that thin wisps of fleecy cloud were stream- 


108 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


in g by high above their tall black tops. Then he heard 
Harry speaking to his father. 

“ There’s a smart southerly breeze, and the tide is 
running ebb,” he was saying. “ What’s the matter with 
starting for Victoria right away?” 

“ Haven’t you done enough for to-day?” Mr. Oliver 
asked with a smile. 

“ I don’t feel as fresh as I did this morning,” Harry 
admitted. “ Anyway, when we’ve got a fair wind and 
three or four hours’ ebb going with us, it would be a 
pity not to make the most of them.” 

Mr. Oliver looked doubtful. “ I’m anxious to get 
away, because, as I’ve arranged to meet a man in Vic- 
toria, we’ll have to take the steamer unless we can slip 
across very shortly. I’ve an idea that we may get more 
wind than we’ll have any use for before sun-up. Still, 
we could run in behind the point at Bannington’s, if it 
was necessary.” 

Then Jake broke in: “ If you’re' going, I’ll get supper 
and pack some bread and pork along to the sloop.” 

Mr. Oliver assented, and an hour later they paddled 
off to the sloop. The dog jumped into the canoe with 
them, and when they got on board he quietly sat down 
on the floorings while Jake helped the boys to hoist the 
mainsail. When they came to the jib Mr. Oliver stood 
up on the deck looking about him. 

“ I think we’d better have the smaller one,” he advised. 

They were ready at length, and Jake, who was to 
stay behind, called the dog as he was about to jump 
into the canoe. Harry was busy forward just then with 
the mooring chain in his hand and the loose jib thrashing 
about him, while the big mainboom jerked over Mr. 
Oliver’s head as he sat at the helm. The dog, however, 
showed no signs of moving. 

“ Give him a shove,” said Jake, addressing Frank. 
“ When he gets up on deck, pitch him in.” 


A BREEZE OF WIND 


109 


Frank turned toward the dog, and then stopped ab- 
ruptly when it showed its teeth and growled. 

“ It looks as if he meant to go along/’ Jake remarked 
with a grin. “ Prod him with the boathook if he won’t 
move.” 

Frank was dubious, as he imagined the dog might re- 
sent the prodding. At that moment Harry, who had 
been too busy to notice what was going on, hauled up 
the weather sheet of the jib. 

“ I’m clear,” he called to his father. “ I’ll cant her 
head to lee when you’re ready.” 

Mr. Oliver put the helm up as the bows swung around, 
and when the sloop slanted over Jake made a futile grab 
at the dog. Then shouting to Frank, he dropped into 
the canoe and clutched the rail as the sloop forged ahead, 
but the boy was busy with the mainsheet and did not 
look up. In another moment Jake let go. Almost im- 
mediately afterward the sloop came round, and when 
she stretched away toward the mouth of the cove the 
canoe dropped astern. 

“ Stand by your jibsheets,” called Mr. Oliver. “ We’ll 
have to come round again.” 

They were -very busy during the next few minutes, 
for the cove was narrow and the wind was blowing in. 
When at length they swept out into the open water the 
dog crawled up to Harry and licked his hands. Harry 
looked at his father, who made a little sign of assent. 

“ I suppose he’ll have to stay,” he sighed. “ When 
that dog decides on doing anything it’s wise to let him 
do it. Now we’ll square off the mainboom.” 

They let the sheet run until the big mainsail swung 
right out, and the sloop drove away, rolling viciously. 
Short, foam-flecked seas came tumbling after her, but 
as the tide was running the same way under them, les- 
sening the resistance, very few broke angrily. Frank 
had learned enough by this time, however, to realize that 


110 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


it would probably be different when the stream turned. 
In the meanwhile the boat was sailing very fast, with 
a little ridge of frothing water washing by on either 
side when she lifted, and a thin shower of spray blowing 
all over her. Now and then the great sail with the heavy 
boom beneath it swung upward in an alarming fashion. 
Frank noticed that Mr. Oliver’s eyes were gazing in- 
tently before him, and that his hands were clenched 
tightly upon the tiller. 

“ She seems rather bad to steer,” he said. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Oliver, without looking up. “You 
have to be careful when you’re running before a fresh 
breeze. It’s remarkably easy to bring the mainsail over 
with a bang if you let her fall off too much, and the 
result of that would probably be to tear the mast out 
of her. It’s considerably worse when there’s a big sea 
coming along behind.” 

Frank glanced astern. The sun had gone and the sky 
was strewn with ranks of hurrying clouds, while the 
sea was flecked with smears of white. 

“Aren’t you pressing her a little?” Harry asked. 
“ She’d be easier on the helm if we lowered the peak 
or tied a reef in.” 

“ I’d like to pick up the Hootalquin reef before it’s 
dark,” answered Mr. Oliver. “I’m not sure we’ll get 
very much farther to-night. You wanted a sail, and I 
fancy you’re going to be gratified.” 

During the next hour Frank had to admit that this 
remark was warranted. The breeze steadily freshened, 
and there was no doubt that the sea was rising. It 
frothed in a white hillock on either side of the boat, 
and little trails of foam swirled about her deck. Frank 
could see that she was overburdened by the sail she was 
carrying, but Mr. Oliver still sat with a set face at the 
tiller and showed no desire to leave his post. In the 
meanwhile it was getting dark. Forest and beach had 
faded to a faint, shadowy blur and there was only a 


A BREEZE OF WIND 


111 


steadily narrowing stretch of foaming water in front of 
them. Frank was very wet and the spray beat upon 
him continually. At length, when the light had almost 
gone, a dusky patch of something grew out of the gather- 
ing gloom ahead, and fancying it to be a rocky point, 
he felt considerably relieved, because there would be 
shelter behind it. A minute or two later Mr. Oliver 
called to the boys. 

“ Get forward and ease the peak down,” he ordered. 
“ Then back the jib. We’ll tie two reefs in.” 

“ Aren’t we going in here ? ” Harry asked. 

His father shook his head. “ No, it’s too dark. I 
could take her through in the daylight, but there are 
one or two rocks in the channel. We’ll have to try for 
Bannington’s.” 

Frank felt a twinge of disappointment. Banning- 
ton’s was still a good way off, and it seemed to him that 
the gale was increasing every moment. He scrambled 
forward with Harry, however, and when they loosened 
the rope the tall peak of the sail swung down. Soon 
after they had done this Mr. Oliver put down his helm, 
causing the mainboom to jerk and thrash to and fro 
furiously, while as the boat came up head to wind a 
white sea struck her side and foamed on board her. 

“ Handy with the throat ! ” shouted Mr. Oliver. “ I 
don’t want to leave the helm.” 

They slacked another rope, making the gaff sink farther 
down, after which they tied up about a yard of the inner 
bottom corner of the sail to the foot of the mast. This 
was comparatively easy, but it was different when, stand- 
ing in the water on the lee deck, they grabbed the tackle 
beneath the boom and endeavored to pull the leach, or 
outer edge, of the mainsail down. It would not come, 
and the heavy spar struck them as it jerked in board, 
flinging Frank off into the well. 

“ Get another pull on your topping lift,” ordered Mr. 
Oliver. 


112 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


They jumped forward to do it, but it proved no easy 
task, for they had to raise the outer end of the heavy 
boom. They were struggling with the tackle again when 
Mr. Oliver laid both hands on the rope. 

“ Now/’ he shouted, “ heave, and bowse her down ! ” 

They succeeded this time, and afterward hung out over 
the water while they knotted the reef-points beneath 
the spar. Then when they had trimmed the jib over 
Mr. Oliver put up his helm and the sloop drove on again 
into the darkness with shortened sail. 

The boys sat down as far under the side deck as they 
could get, out of the worst of the spray, with the dog 
crouching in the water which washed about the floorings 
at their feet. 

“ Why didn’t your father help us more than he did? ” 
Frank asked presently. 

“ He couldn’t leave the tiller for more than a moment 
or two,” said Harry. “ When Jake and I reefed her the 
day we took you off the steamer there wasn’t as much 
wind. Of course, there are boats in which you can lash 
the helm, but that’s not always possible. If dad had 
let go the tiller she’d have fallen off and started sailing, 
whicji would have dragged the tackle from our hands or 
pitched us in, and then she’d have come up again bang- 
ing and shaking. He kept her heading so that the main- 
sail was lifting slack with no weight in it.” 

Frank was commencing to realize that the handling of 
a sailboat was rather a fine art. It is as much of a 
machine as a steamer, but it is also of the kind whose 
efficiency depends directly upon the human eye, hand 
and brain. Man has evolved a number of such instru- 
ments, and in the right hands they are far more won- 
derful than the others. Any one, for instance, can learn 
the pianola, but to extract fine music from a Cremona 
violin is a very different matter. 

It blew steadily harder, and there was, as Frank no- 
ticed, a difference in the sea, for the flood stream was 


A BREEZE OF WIND 


113 


now setting up against them and was growing shorter 
and more turbulent. There was a smaller interval be-* 
tween the waves, which seemed to become steeper and 
less regular. They curled over and broke about the boat 
with a sound that reacted unpleasantly upon Frank’s 
nerves, and he was thankful that he could, after all, see 
very little of them. The sloop’s motion also changed. 
One moment she seemed to be moving almost slowly, and 
the next she swung up in a quick, savage rush, with her 
bows in the air and the white foam boiling high about 
her. Sometimes, too, there was a thud and a splash 
astern, and the decks were swept by a deluge of seething 
water. 

In the meanwhile the boys had contrived to light a 
lamp in a little box which held a compass, and they laid 
it on the thwart before Mr. Oliver, though, as he ex- 
plained in a word or two, it was particularly difficult to 
steer an exact course in a sea of that kind. It was on 
the boat’s quarter, that is, she was traveling with the 
wind almost behind her at a long slant across the course 
of the waves, but each time an extra big wave foamed 
up astern Mr. Oliver let her fall off and run right down 
wind with it to prevent its breaking on board. 

Frank wondered how he did it, for the seas were fol- 
lowing them and it was quite dark, but Mr. Oliver had 
no need to look around. He had for guides the sound 
of the oncoming seas, the pull of the tiller, and the 
motion of the boat, and, besides, from long experience 
his brain worked sub-consciously. He did not pause to 
consider when the bows climbed out and the stern sank 
down in a rush of foam, and had he done so, in alL 
probability he would have brought the big mainboom 
smashing over. To run a fore-and-aft rigged craft, and 
a sloop in particular, before a badly breaking sea, is a 
difficult and somewhat perilous thing, and the ability to 
do it comes only from long acquaintance with the water, 
and, perhaps, from something in the helmsman’s nature. 


114 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


The boat sped on furiously, though they presently 
lowered the peak down to reduce the sail further, and 
by degrees Frank became conscious of an unpleasant 
nervous tension that seemed to sap away his hardihood. 
There was nothing to do in the meanwhile, but he felt 
that if he were called upon for any difficult or hazardous 
service he would find himself incapable of it. He was 
drenched and shivering, and he did not want to move. 
He only wished to cower beside Harry under the partial 
shelter of the coaming. This was, however, a feeling 
that other folks occasionally experience who go to sea 
in small vessels, which they have to grapple with and 
overcome. It is when there is no particular call on him, 
and he can only stand by and watch, that terror gets its 
strongest hold on the heart of a man. 

At length Mr. Oliver called to the boys. “We must 
be close abreast of Bannington’s,” he said. “ The end 
of the point should be to leeward. Get forward, Harry, 
where you can see out beneath the jib.” 

Frank followed his companion as he crawled up on 
the little deck. He did not want to seem afraid, but he 
held on tight with one hand when they knelt in the 
water that splashed about them. He could see the 
frothy seas beneath the black curve of the jib, but for 
what seemed a very long while there was nothing else. 
Then Harry suddenly raised his voice. 

“ Point’s right ahead ! ” he sang out, and the next mo- 
ment jumped to his feet. “ There’s a black patch a 
little to weather.” 

“Up peak for your lives!” cried Mr. Oliver. 

He left the helm with a bound, and all three strug- 
gled desperately with a rope, while as the bagged main- 
sail extended and straightened out a sea broke on board 
the boat. Then they floundered aft and dragged in 
the mainsheet with all their might, after which Mr. 
Oliver jumped for the helm again, while the boys flat- 
tened in the jib. 


A BREEZE OF WIND 


115 


“We’re the wrong side of the point,” gasped Harry. 
" Fm not sure she’ll beat round it.” 

There was no difficulty in imagining what was likely 
to happen if she failed to do so, and Frank, who did 
not think she would last long if she washed up among 
the boulders before the sea that was running, clung 
to the coaming in a state of tense suspense. What 
seemed to be a continuous sheet of spray whirled about 
him, the boat slanted over at an alarming angle with 
half her lee deck in the sea, and the tops of the con- 
fused breaking waves through which she plunged washed 
all over her. This was sailing with a vengeance, and 
a very different thing from lounging at the tiller while 
she swung smoothly across the water before a fair 
wind. She was now thrashing to windward for her 
life, with the full weight of the sea on her weather bow 
and a foam-swept reef lying in wait close to lee of her, 
and whether she would claw off it or not depended largely 
upon her helmsman’s skill. 

Frank could see him dimly, a black shape gripping 
the tiller, and he was unpleasantly aware of the fact 
that there would speedily be an end of them all if he 
lost his nerve for a moment or made a blunder. It 
happens now and then at sea that the safety of crew 
and vessel hangs upon the brute strength of human 
muscle and the simple valor which enables a man to 
do what is required of him on the moment without flinch- 
ing; empty assurance and a consequential air are of 
uncommonly little service then. Such occasions are a 
very grim test of manhood, and, as a rule, it is not 
the loud talker who best stands that strain. 

Frank admitted afterward that he was badly scared, 
which was not in the least unnatural. It was more 
important that he should nevertheless realize that it 
was his business to trim the jib over when this was 
necessary. His companion, who was gazing to leeward, 
presently raised his voice. 


116 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ Broken water close ahead,” he announced. 

‘‘Stand by your jibl” shouted Mr. Oliver. “We 
must try to heave her around.” 

Frank let the lee sheet run, groping deep in the water 
for it as Mr. Oliver put down the helm, and with a 
frantic thrashing of canvas the sloop came up into the 
wind. There was a moment of suspense during which 
she seemed to stop, and the boy felt his heart thumping 
furiously. He knew that if she fell off again on the 
previous tack nothing could save her from going ashore. 
Suddenly he heard Harry call to him. 

“Haul it up!” he shouted. “We have to box her 
off.” 

Frank hauled with all his might, and the thrashing of 
the head sail ceased. It caught the wind, and a sea 
fell upon the boat as the bows swung around. Then 
they jumped to the opposite side of her and struggled 
desperately to haul the lee sheet in as she forged ahead 
again, after which there was nothing to do but wait and 
wonder if she was driving in toward the shore or work- 
ing out toward open water. They stood on for half 
an hour, seeing nothing, and then came round half- 
swamped, only to stagger away on the opposite tack, run- 
ning once more into horribly broken water. As they did 
so Harry shouted that there were boulders, the end of 
the point, he fancied, close to lee. 

“ She won’t come about in the rabble,” said Mr. 
Oliver. 

It was evident that they must now either scrape around 
the point on that tack or go ashore, and Frank felt 
his nerves tingle as he gazed into the spray. He fancied 
that there was something black and solid beyond it, but 
could distinguish nothing further. Then the blackness 
faded, the sea seemed to become a little more regular, and 
Harry cried out hoarsely, “ We’re round ! ” 

“ Down peak ! ” called Mr. Oliver. “ We’ll have to 
jibe her.” 


A BREEZE OF WIND 


117 


Frank had learned that to jibe a boat is to turn her 
around stern to wind, instead of head-on, which is the 
usual way, and scrambling forward with Harry he 
helped lower the peak. After that they again floundered 
aft, leaving the mainsail reduced in size, and grabbed 
the sheet as Mr. Oliver put up his helm. The bows 
swung around as the boat went up with a sea, and the 
big boom tilted high up into the darkness above the 
boys. They struggled savagely with the sheet, which 
slightly restrained it, until the boat rolled suddenly 
down upon her side as the sail jerked over and the rope 
was torn swiftly through their hands. There was a 
crash and a bang, and Frank was conscious that the 
water was pouring over the coaming. He clung to the 
sheet, however, and while Mr. Oliver helped them with 
one hand they got a little of it in, after which the sloop, 
rising somewhat, drove forward. A few minutes later 
the sea suddenly became smoother, the wind seemed cut 
off, and Frank made out a black mass of rock rising 
close above them. They ran on beneath it until Mr. 
Oliver, rounding the boat up, bade them pitch the anchor 
over. 


CHAPTER XI 


MR. BARCLAY JOINS THE PARTY 

W HEN the boat brought up to her anchor the boys 
spent some time straightening up her gear and 
pumping her out. The work put a little warmth into 
them, but they were glad to crawl into the cabin when 
it was done. There was scarcely room in it to sit up- 
right, and with the moisture standing beaded everywhere 
it looked rather like the inside of a well. Mr. Oliver 
had lighted the stove and a lamp was burning. By 
and by he took off a hissing kettle, and when they had 
made a meal they lay down in their wet clothes amidst 
a raffle of more or less dripping ropes and sails. For- 
tunately, the place was warm, and Frank was thankful 
to stretch himself out along the side of the boat. He 
was discovering that mental strain of the kind he had 
undergone during the last few hours is as fatiguing as 
bodily labor. 

But he did not immediately go to sleep. The craft 
rocked upon the long swell which worked in round the 
point, with now and then a sharp rattle as she plucked 
hard at her cable. Sometimes she swung suddenly 
around upon it as an eddying blast swept down from 
the rocks above, and the drumming of the halliards 
against the mast broke continuously through the moan 
of the wind among the trees ashore and the deeper 
rumble of the ground sea. At last, however, he fell 
into a heavy slumber, and it was daylight and Harry 
had put the spider on the stove when he awoke again. 
He made his breakfast before he went out on deck, to 
find that the wind had dropped a little and it was rain- 

118 


MR. BARCLAY JOINS THE PARTY 119 

ing hard. The dim, slate-green water lapped noisily 
upon the wall of rock close by, and glancing seaward 
he saw nothing but a leaden haze and a short stretch 
of tumbling combers. Mr. Oliver had gone out earlier 
and was standing on the deck looking about him. 

“ There’s no great weight in the wind, though the 
sea’s still rather high,” he said presently. “ I think we 
can push on for Victoria.” 

Frank, who fancied they would not get there before 
that night, was by no means so keen about the sail as he 
had been on the previous day. He felt that it would 
be considerably pleasanter to remain in the shelter of 
the point until the sun came out or the wind went down, 
and it seemed to him that Harry shared his opinion. 
The dog also looked very draggled and miserable and 
had evidently had enough of the voyage. They, how- 
ever, set the mainsail, leaving the reefs in, hauled up 
the anchor, and hoisted the jib as the sloop stretched 
out across the waste of tumbling water, after which the 
boys went below to straighten up the breakfast things. 
Frank once or twice felt a little sick as he did so, and 
he noticed that Harry wore a somewhat anxious look. 

“ It’s not blowing as hard as it was when we ran 
in, but I don’t think dad would have gone unless he’d 
some particular reason,” Harry said at length. “ I won- 
der who the man is he expects to meet in Victoria, be- 
cause I’m inclined to believe it’s not the one who wants 
him to look at the land. The worst of dad is that he 
keeps such a lot to himself.” 

They crawled out again shortly afterward and found 
the seas getting longer and bigger. Once or twice a 
blur of something went by that might have been the 
end of an island, and Mr. Oliver changed his course 
a little, but after that the dim, green water stretched 
away before them empty and only broken by smears of 
snowy froth, and the sloop drove on before the combers 


120 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


which came up out of the haze astern of her in long 
succession. 

It was toward noon, and Mr. Oliver had gone into 
the cabin to get dinner ready, leaving Harry at the helm, 
when, glancing around, Frank saw an indistinct mass 
of something break out of the mist. It grew into the 
shadowy shape of a steamer while he watched it. 

“ There’s a big vessel close by,” he said, touching his 
companion’s arm. 

Harry glanced over his shoulder. “ Sure,” he nodded. 
“ What’s more, she’s coming right along our track. Get 
in some mainsheet while I luff her.” 

He changed the sloop’s course a trifle, but in the 
meanwhile the steamer was growing in size and dis- 
tinctness with a marvelous rapidity. Her great bow 
seemed to be rising out of the water like a headland, 
over which Frank could just see the tiers of white 
deckhouses, one mast, and the tall smokestack. Then 
he glanced forward at the sloop’s wet deck and the low 
strip of her double-reefed mainsail, looking very small 
among the tumbling seas, and it occurred to him that 
it would probably be difficult for the steamer’s lookout 
to see them. He felt rather anxious when he glanced 
back astern. 

“ She still seems to be coming right down on us,” 
he said. 

Harry called his father, who hurried out and glanced 
at the vessel. / 

“ Shall we get up and yell ? ” the boy asked. 

“ No,” said Mr. Oliver curtly, “ they couldn’t hear 
you to windward. Let her come up farther.” 

Frank helped drag some more mainsheet and then 
looked around again with a very unpleasant thrill of 
apprehension. The black bow seemed almost above 
them, and the sea leaped against a wall of plates as 
the great mass of iron swung slowly out of it and sank' 
down again. Then from somewhere beside the smoke^ 


MR. BARCLAY JOINS THE PARTY 121 


stack a streak of white steam blew out and a great 
reverberatory roar came hurtling about them. Mr. 
Oliver’s anxious face relaxed. 

“ They’ve seen us,” he said. “ Her helm’s going 
over.” 

The bow drew out and lengthened into an increasing 
strip of side. Another mast became visible, with a 
double row of white deckhouses and a tier of boats 
between. Here and there a cluster of diminutive figures 
showed up among them, and then the great ship sped 
by with the whole of her size revealed. The sloop 
plunged madly on her screw-torn wake, but in another 
minute or two she had drawn away and was melting 
into the haze again. 

“ A big boat,” said Mr. Oliver. “ She was very close 
to us. You had better keep your eyes open while I 
get dinner.” 

The rest of the dismal day passed uneventfully, but 
toward evening the haze commenced to roll aside and 
they saw blurred black pines looming up ahead of them. 
A little later they ran into Victoria harbor, and, hiring 
a Siwash to take them ashore, walked through the 
streets of what struck Frank as a very handsome city 
until they reached a hotel. Here they ordered supper, 
and after the meal was over the boys, who had changed 
their clothes, sat with Mr. Oliver in the almost deserted 
smoking room. He seemed to be expecting somebody, 
which somewhat astonished Frank, but he noticed that 
Harry smiled meaningly when Mr. Barclay walked in. 
He was dressed in light-colored sporting garments, with 
a belt around his waist and a leather patch on one 
shoulder, and there were gaudy trout flies stuck in his 
little cloth cap He threw the cap on the table before 
he shook hands with Mr. Oliver and the boys, smiling 
as he caught Harry’s eye. 

“ Well,” he asked, indicating the flies, “ what do you 
think of them?” 


122 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Harry grinned again as he laid his finger on one. 

“ You’re not going to get many trout with that fellow, 
unless they’ve different habits in British Columbia. 
They won’t come on for quite a while.” 

Mr. Barclay removed the fly and put it into a wallet. 

“ Thanks,” he said. “ It’s some time since I did any 
fishing.” Then he seemed to notice the manner in which 
the boy was surveying his clothing. “ It’s a sport’s get- 
up, but are you acquainted with any reason why a 
United States citizen shouldn’t get a little innocent 
amusement catching Canadian trout ? ” 

“ No, sir,” answered Harry coolly. “ Still, there are 
quite a few trout in the rivers on the American side of 
the boundary. It makes one wonder if you had any- 
thing else in view besides fishing in coming to British 
Columbia.” 

Mr. Barclay regarded him with an air of ironical 
reproof. 

“ In a general way, young man, it’s most unwise to 
blurt the thing right out when you have a suspicion in 
your mind. It’s better to let it stay there until you 
have good cause to act on it.” He turned to Mr. Oliver. 
“ I’m inclined to doubt the advisability of leaving your 
sloop lying where she is in full view of the wharf.” 

“ Then you recognized her ? ” 

“At a glance. The trouble is that there are one or 
two acquaintances of yours who might do the same.” 

Mr. Oliver looked thoughtful. 

“ I’ve been considering that, but it was getting dark 
when we ran in, and we had better move the first thing 
to-morrow. Now with this unsettled weather I’m not 
very keen on sailing up the west coast, which is open 
to the Pacific, and the place we are bound for is rather 
a long way.” 

“Then go east,” advised Mr. Barclay. “There are 
a number of inlets on that side of the island within 
easy reach of the railroad, and you ought to reach the 


MR. BARCLAY JOINS THE PARTY 123 


nearest of them in a few hours. I’ll go on with the cars 
to-morrow, and if you don’t get in at one of the way 
stations. I’ll wait for you at Wellington. Then we 
could cross to the west coast by the Alberni stage and 
hire a couple of Indians and a sea canoe. It wouldn’t 
be a long run from there.” 

Mr. Oliver agreed to this, and getting up early next 
morning, they slipped out of the harbor, and some hours 
afterward crept into a forest-girt inlet, where they left 
the sloop. There was a depot nearby, and getting on 
board the cars when the next train came in, they found 
Mr. Barclay awaiting them. Early in the afternoon 
they alighted at a little wooden, colliery town, and next 
day they crossed the island in the stage over a very 
rough trail which led through tremendous forests. 
Once they passed a wonderful blue lake lying deep-sunk 
between steep walls of hills. Then they crossed a divide 
and came winding down into a valley with water flash- 
ing at the foot of it. It was evening when they arrived 
at a straggling settlement on the banks of a riband of 
salt water twisting away among the forest-shrouded hills, 
and found several Indians there who had come up in 
their sea canoes. 

Mr. Oliver hired a couple of them, and they started 
after they had purchased a few stores. A light, pine- 
scented breeze was blowing down the valley when they 
thrust the canoe off from the shingle. They had no 
sooner done so, however, when the dog arose with a 
deep growl which indicated that he objected to the In- 
dians going with them. As his actions did not seem to 
have the desired effect he seized the nearest Indian 
by the leg, and it was only when Harry belabored him 
with a paddle that he could be induced to let go. Then 
he barked at them savagely until Frank drew him down 
upon his knee with a hand about his neck, while the 
Siwash raised two little masts. In the meanwhile the 
boy watched the men with interest, and decided that 


124 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


they had very little in common with the prairie Indians 
he had seen in pictures and from the cars. 

They were dressed neatly in clothes which had evi- 
dently been purchased at a store, and though their faces 
were brown and their hair rather coarse and dark there 
was nothing else unusual about them. They talked 
with Mr. Oliver and Mr. Barclay freely in what Harry 
said was Chinook, a readily learned lingua-franca in 
use on parts of the Pacific Slope. Then Frank fixed 
his attention upon the canoe, a long, narrow, and beau- 
tifully shaped craft with the usual tall, bird’s-head bow. 
She was rather shallow, but Harry said that this made 
her paddle fast. He added that though these canoes 
would sail reasonably well when the breeze was fair the 
Indians usually drove them to windward with the paddle 
unless the sea was too heavy, in which case they gen- 
erally made for the beach and pulled the craft out. 

Frank remembered that this, or something like it, was 
the ancient practice, and that it was only by slow de- 
grees that man had discovered he could still make the 
wind propel his vessel to its destination when it blew 
from ahead. Greek and Roman triremes, Alexandrian 
wheat ships, and Viking galleys, had made wonderful 
voyages, and they all carried sail, but they set it only 
when the wind was fair. When it drew ahead they 
stowed their canvas and thrashed the lean hull through 
the seas with their long oars. Now, after perfecting 
his vessel’s under-water body, inventing the center board, 
and learning how to make flat-setting sails, man was 
going back to the old-time plan, only that instead of 
relying upon the muscle of close-packed rowers he used 
improved propellers, tri-compound reciprocators and 
turbines. 

One of the Siwash shook out the two spritsails which 
sat on a pole stretching up to the peak from the foot 
of the mast, and when he had led the sheets aft his 


MR. BARCLAY JOINS THE PARTY 125 


companion knelt astern with a paddle held over the 
gunwale. Slanting gently down to the faint breeze, the 
craft slid away through the smooth, green water with a 
long ripple running back behind her. The log houses 
dropped astern and were lost among the trees, a valley 
filled with somber forest, and a rampart of tall hillside, 
slipped by, and as they crept on from point to point the 
strip of still water stretched away before them between 
somber ranks of climbing trees. 

Frank had no idea how far they had gone when the 
light began to fail, though he fancied that the shallow 
craft, now slipping forward so smoothly, was sailing a 
good deal faster than she seemed to be. At length one 
of the Siwash loosened the sheets and stowed the sails, 
while his companion turned the bows toward the beach. 
She slid in and grounded gently on a bank of shingle 
in a little cove, where a gigantic forest crept down to 
the water. They got out and ran her up, filled their 
kettle at a tinkling creek, hewed resinous chips from a 
fallen fir, and built a fire. Then they cut armfuls of 
thin spruce branches with which to make their beds, 
and presently sat down to an ample supper. 

When it was over the Indians went down to the canoe, 
and Mr. Oliver and Mr. Barclay drew a little apart 
from the boys. Frank, lying near Harry beneath a big 
cedar, raised himself up on one elbow and watched the 
firelight flicker upon the mighty trunks. On the one 
hand they were lost in the gloom of the dense mass 
of dusky foliage, but on the other their great branches 
cut against the sky, which was still softly blue, and a 
blaze of silver radiance stretched across the water, for 
a half-moon had just sailed up above the opposite hill. 
Out of the silence there stole a faint whispering from 
the tops of the taller trees and the languid lapping of 
water among the stones, but there was no other sound, 
and once more Frank was glad that he had not exchanged 


126 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


the stillness of the wilderness for the turmoil of the 
cities. He had now definitely decided to become a 
rancher. 

It grew colder by and by, and wrapping his blanket 
around him, he wriggled down closer among the yield- 
ing spruce twigs. The great trunks grew dimmer and 
the smoke wisps which drifted among them became 
less distinct. By degrees they all grew mixed together — 
a confusion of sliding vapor and spectral trees — and he 
was conscious of nothing more. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE STRANGER 

A COUPLE of days later the party pitched their 
camp in the depths of a lonely valley sloping to 
the Pacific, which was not far away. It was filled with 
great redwoods, balsams and cedars, and as Frank gazed 
at the endless rows of towering trunks it struck him 
as curious that Mr. Oliver’s friend should think of 
buying this tract of giant forest for ranching land. He 
said so to Harry, who laughed. 

“ There’s no rock or gravel on it and that counts for 
a good deal,” said his companion. “ If the soil looks 
as if it would grow things, it’s about all the average 
man expects on this side of the Rockies. A few trees 
more or less don’t matter. It’s the same with us right 
down the Pacific Slope; the only difference is that on 
this island the firs seem just a little bigger.” He ap- 
peared to admit the latter fact reluctantly, adding, “ I 
guess that’s because it’s wetter in Canada.” 

They were standing outside a little tent of the kind 
most often used in the Western bush. It was supported 
by a ridge pole resting at either end upon two more, 
which were spread well apart at the bottom and crossed 
near the top. A short branch stay stretched back from 
each pair, and a few turns of cord lashing held the whole 
frame together. They had cut the poles in five minutes 
in the bush, and had brought the light cotton cover with 
them rolled up in a bundle. A good many men in that 
country live in such shelters during most of the year. 
Mr. Barclay sat on one of the hearth logs which were 
127 


128 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


rolled close together in front of the tent and Mr. Oliver 
stood in the entrance. 

“ But the place must be such a tremendous way from 
a market,” said Frank in response to Harry’s last re- 
mark. 

Mr. Oliver smiled. “It’s not long since I tried to 
explain that a good many of the bush ranchers have 
to wait until the market comes to them. They stake 
their dollars and a number of years of hard work on 
the future of the country.” 

“ Some of them get badly left now and then,” said 
Mr. Barclay dryly. “ You’ll find laid-out townsites that 
have never grown up all along the Pacific Slope. There 
are stores and hotels falling to pieces in one or two I’ve 
struck.” Then changing the subject : “ Are you boys 
coming across with me to the river for some fishing 
to-morrow ? ” 

They said that they would be glad to do so, and Mr. 
Barclay turned to Mr. Oliver. “ We’ll give you an- 
other two days to finish your surveying, and then we’ll 
meet you at the rancherie on the inlet we spoke of. We 
can camp in the bush outside the tent for a couple of 
nights.” 

They started early the next morning, taking one Indian 
with them to pack their provisions, and the dog, who 
insisted on accompanying them. They were plodding 
along a hillside toward noon when Mr. Barclay, who 
was walking in front with their guide, looked back at 
the boys. 

“ Get hold of the dog as soon as we stop and keep 
him quiet,” he cautioned. 

After that they moved forward in silence for some 
minutes while the trees grew thinner ahead of them, 
until Mr. Barclay stopped behind a brake of undergrowth. 
The dog broke into a short, throaty bark and then 
growled hoarsely until Frank knelt beside him and laid 


THE STRANGER 


129 


a hand upon his collar. When he had quieted the ani- 
mal, who by degrees had become attached to him, he 
arose and found he could look down upon a narrow slit of 
valley into which the sunlight poured. A creek swirled 
through the bottom of it, and he was astonished to see 
a swarm of blue-clad figures toiling with grubhoe and 
shovel upon its banks, and a cluster of bark shelters 
in the widest part of the hollow. 

“ Chinamen ! ” he said. “ What can they be doing? 
One never would have expected to find a colony of them 
here.” 

Mr. Barclay smiled in a somewhat curious fashion. 

“ They’re washing gold. It’s a remarkably simple 
process, if you’re willing to work hard enough. You 
shovel out the soil and sand and keep on washing it 
until it’s all washed away. Any gold there is remains 
in the bottom of the pan.” 

“ But if there’s gold in that creek, how is it there are 
no white men about ? ” 

“ Probably because they couldn’t make wages. There’s 
a little gold in a number of the creeks right down the 
Slope, but where the quantity’s very small nobody but 
a Chinaman finds it worth while to look for it.” 

Mr. Barclay sat down and spent some minutes ap- 
parently carefully watching the blue-clad figures toiling 
in the sunlight below, after which he got up and signaled 
for them to go on again. The boys, however, dropped 
a little behind, and presently Harry gave his companion 
a nudge. 

“ I guess you noticed that when you said one wouldn’t 
have expected to find those Chinamen here Barclay didn’t 
answer it ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Frank thoughtfully. “ I suppose you 
mean he wasn’t astonished when he saw them ? ” 

“ You’ve hit it, first time,” Harry assented. “ That 
man’s on the trail, and though I can’t tell you exactly 


130 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


who he’s getting after, I’ve my ideas.” He paused with 
a chuckle. “ I’m not sure now he’s quite so much of 
a stuffed image as he seemed to be.” 

Frank said nothing in answer to this. A few minutes 
later Harry touched his arm as Mr. Barclay, turning 
suddenly, shouted: 

“ Get hold of the dog ! ” 

Frank grabbed at the animal’s collar but missed it, 
and the next moment the dog had vanished. Then there 
was a crash in the bush, and a beautiful slender creature 
with long legs and little horns shot out from behind a 
thicket and flung itself high into the air. It fell again, 
this time with scarcely a sound, into a clump of fern, 
rose out of it, and in a wonderful bound cleared a fallen 
trunk with broken branches projecting from it. Then 
it was lost in another thicket and the dog’s harsh bark- 
ing rang through the silence of the woods. Once or 
twice again Frank caught a momentary glimpse of a 
marvelously agile creature rising and falling among 
the undergrowth, and then there was only the yelping 
of the dog which became fainter and fainter and finally 
broke out at irregular intervals. Mr. Barclay sat down 
upon the fallen trees. 

“I suppose we’ll have to wait until that amiable pet 
of yours comes back,” he said. “ On the whole it’s for- 
tunate the deer broke out now instead of a quarter of 
an hour earlier.” 

They waited a considerable time before the dog crept 
up to them wagging his ragged tail in a disappointed man- 
ner. Harry shook his fishing rod at him threateningly. 

“ I’d lay into you good, only it wouldn’t be any use,” 
he said. “ The more you’re whacked, the worse you 
get.” 

The dog wagged his tail again and jumped upon 
Frank, who patted him before they resumed the march. 

“ It’s rather curious, but that’s the first deer I’ve seen 


THE STRANGER 


131 


since I’ve been in the country,” he said. “ Do they 
always jump like that?” 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ in a general way they are quite 
hard to see, and you can walk right past one without 
noticing it when it’s standing still. Their colors match 
the trunks and the fern, and, what’s more important, it’s 
not often you can see the whole of them. In fact, I’ve 
struck as many deer by accident as I’ve done when I’ve 
been trailing them. Now and then you almost walk right 
up to one, though I haven’t the least notion how it is they 
don’t hear you, because as a rule the one you’re trailing 
will leave you out of sight in a few moments if you 
snap a twig. Anyway, a scared deer goes over what- 
ever lies in front of him. There are very few things 
he can’t jump, and he comes down almost without a 
sound.” 

The rest of the journey proved uneventful, and early 
in the evening they made camp on the banks of a froth- 
ing river which swept out of the shadow crystal clear. 
In this it differed, as Harry explained, from most of 
the larger ones on the Pacific Slope, which are usually 
fed by melted snow and stained a faint green. Mr. 
Barclay, whose boots and clothes were already consid- 
erably the worse for wear, sat down beside a swirling 
pool and took out his pipe. 

“There’s no use pitching a fly across it yet, I sup- 
pose,” he said. “.We may as well get supper before 
we start.” 

The Siwash prepared the meal and remained behind 
with Mr. Barclay when it was over, while the two boys 
went down stream with a rod he had lent them which 
Harry insisted Frank should take. There were, he 
urged, plenty of trout in the river near his father’s 
ranch, though it was very seldom he had leisure to go 
after them. They wandered on some distance beside 
the water, which ran almost west toward the Pacific, 


1S2 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


and wherever the forest was a little thinner the slant- 
ing sunrays streaming between the serried trunks smote 
along it. Frank, who had, as it happened, once or twice 
got a week or two’s fishing in the East, kept his eyes 
open, but it was only twice that he fancied he noticed 
the faint dimple made by a short-rising trout. 

“ I’d have expected to find a river of this kind thick 
with fish,” he said. 

“There’s sure to be a good many in it,” answered 
'Harry. “You wait about another half hour.” 

“ What’s the matter with starting now? ” urged Frank. 
“ Isn’t that one rising in the slack yonder ? ” 

“ See if you can get him,” said Harry, smiling. 

Frank swung the rod, straining every effort to make 
a neat, clean cast, and he succeeded. The flies dropped 
lightly about a foot above the dimple made by the fish, 
and swept down stream across the spot where he had 
reason to suppose it was waiting. There was no re- 
sponse, however, and nothing broke the rippling surface 
when the flies floated down a second time. Frank laid 
down the rod. 

“ It’s curious,” he murmured. 

Harry laughed. “ Hold on a little. You’ve seen 
three fish rising now, and that’s quite out of the com- 
mon.” 

Frank sat down again, and waited until the sunlight 
faded off the river and the firs about it suddenly grew 
blacker. Soon afterward what seemed an almost solid 
cloud of tiny insects drifted along the surface of the 
water, which was immediately broken by multitudinous 
splasher 

“ Now you can begin,” said Harry. 

Frank, clambering to a ledge of rock, swung his rod, 
and as the flies swept across an eddy there was a splash 
and a swirl and a sudden tightening of the line. He 
got the butt down as the winch commented to clink, and 


THE STRANGER 


1S3 


Harry waded out into the stream lower down, holding 
his wide hat. 

“ Let him run, but keep a strain on,” he cried 
“ You’ve got a big one.” 

The fish fought for three or four minutes, gleaming, 
a streak of silver, through the shadowy flood, as it 
showed its side, then sprang clear and changed again 
to a half-seen dusky shape that drove violently here and 
there. Then it came up toward the bending point of 
the rod, and at length Harry, slipping his hat beneath 
it, lifted it out. 

“ Nearly three quarters of a pound,” he said. “ Your 
trace is clear now. Try again, and never mind about 
the slack and eddies. Pitch your flies anywhere.” 

Frank did so, and they had scarcely fallen when there 
was a second rush, but this fish seemed smaller and he 
dragged it out unceremoniously upon the shingle. It 
was the same the next cast, and for a while he was 
kept desperately busy. When at length he laid the rod 
down Harry announced that they had a dozen fish. 

“ We’ll try the next pool now,” he added. “ Some of 
these trout aren’t half a pound and I’d like you to get 
a real big one.” 

The next pool proved to be some distance away and 
there was nothing but rock and foaming water be- 
tween, but when they reached a slacker place where the 
current circled around a deep basin Frank had four 
or five more minutes’ fishing, during which he landed 
several trout. Then the flies seemed to vanish and there 
was scarcely a splash on the shadowy water. 

“ You may as well put the rod up,” Harry advised. 
“ It’s a sure thing you won’t get another.” 

Frank tried for a few minutes, but finding his com- 
panion’s prediction justified, sat down near him among 
the roots of a big fir. At the foot of the pool where 
he had been fhhing the stream swept furiously between 


134 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


big scattered boulders in a wild white rapid. It was 
narrower there, and a ledge of rock, slightly hollowed 
out underneath, rose above it on the side on which they 
sat a little more than a hundred yards away. The woods 
were now darkening fast, and the chill of the dew was 
in the air, which was heavy with the scent of redwood 
and cedar. In places the water still glimmered faintly, 
and except for the roar it made, everything was very 
still. 

Suddenly Harry pointed to the dog, who was lying 
near Frank. 

“ Get hold of him,” he said in a low voice. “ If 
nothing else will keep him quiet, we’ll roll your jacket 
round his head.” 

Frank, who had taken off his jacket, which was badly 
torn, when he began fishing, laid his hand on the dog as 
it arose with a low growl. Then as it tried to break 
away from him he seized its collar and held on with all 
his might while Harry flung the jacket over it. Though 
the thing cost them an effort they managed to hold the 
animal still between them. In the meanwhile there was 
a crackle of undergrowth and Frank saw a man who 
walked in a rather curious manner move out from the 
shadow. Even when he was clear of the overhanging 
branches it was impossible to see him distinctly, but 
Frank recognized him with a start. There was some- 
thing wrong with one of the dark figure’s shoulders. 

The man moved on away from them, until he stopped 
at the edge of the overhanging rock, where he stood 
for a moment or two. Then he leaped out suddenly 
and alighted on the top of a boulder about which the 
white froth whirled. Frank fancied that only a very 
powerful person could have safely made such a leap, 
and there was no doubt that whatever it was that had 
caused the man’s unusual gait, it had not affected his 
agility. The next moment, he jumped again, and, com- 
ing down rather more than knee-deep in the rapid, 





FRANK RECOGNIZED HIM WITH A START 


Page 134 



THE STRANGER 


135 


floundered through it and vanished into the shadow be- 
neath the trees. Then Harry looked around at his com- 
panion with a smile. 

“ I’ll own up that Barclay’s smart, after all,” he said. 
“ He’s sure on the trail. Anyway, perhaps we’d better 
head back to camp in case some more of them come 
along.” 

It was quite dark when they reached the fire the 
Siwash had made and found Mr. Barclay, who now 
seemed rather wet as well as ragged, sitting beside it 
with his pipe in his hand. When they had compared 
their fish with those he had killed they lay down among 
the withered needles on the opposite side of the fire. 

“ It’s good fishing, sir, but you must be very keen 
to come so far for it,” said Harry, looking up inno- 
cently at Mr. Barclay. 

The red light of the fire was on Mr. Barclay’s face 
and Frank saw that he glanced thoughtfully at Harry. 

“ It certainly is,” he answered. “ I believe you have 
already said something very much like your last remark. 
Still, you see, I don’t propose to come often.” 

Frank suppressed a chuckle. If Harry had intended 
to surprise the man into some admission he had not 
succeeded yet. 

“ And we go on to the rancherie in a couple of days,” 
Harry added. “ From what the Indians told me I don’t 
think we’d get any fishing there. Wouldn’t it be better 
to stay here a little longer ? ” 

“ No,” said Mr. Barclay, “ quite apart from the diffi- 
culty of sending your father word, what you suggest 
doesn’t strike me as advisable, for one or two reasons.” 

Harry seemed to realize that he was making no prog- 
ress, and, looking meaningly at Frank, suddenly 
changed his tactics. 

“ There’s something I should perhaps have told you, 
sir, though I don’t know whether it will interest you. 
Anyway, not long ago Frank and I were up at the 


136 BOYi RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Chinese colony behind the settlement near our ranch. 
Perhaps you have been there ? ” 

“ I've heard of it,” said Barclay dryly. 

Then in a few words Harry described how the man 
they had endeavored to trail had vanished at the China- 
man’s shack, and Frank saw a look of eager interest cross 
Mr. Barclay’s usually stolid face. 

“You suggest that the fellow didn’t want you to see 
him ? ” he asked. 

“ That was certainly how it struck me.” 

“And he walked rather curiously and one shoulder 
seemed a little higher than the other? I think you 
mentioned that ? ” 

“I did,” repeated Harry. 

Mr. Barclay seemed to reflect, but there was now 
sign of deeper interest in his expression. 

“ Did you notice whether he had red hair and gray 
eyes ? ” 

“ No,” said Harry with a grin, “ though I can’t be 
sure about it. I’ve a notion that his hair was dark. As 
it happened, I only saw his back, but I’d know the man 
again.” He paused impressively. “ In fact, I hadn’t 
the least trouble about it when I saw him half an hour 
ago.” 

Mr. Barclay started and there was no doubt that he 
was astonished at this. 

“ You ran up against him here ! ” 

“ No,” said Harry, “ I only watched him from behind 
a fir. He crossed the creek heading south and didn’t 
notice us.” 

Mr. Barclay settled back again and seemed lost in 
thought. “ After all,” he said shortly, “ it’s possible.” 

Then he changed the subject and they talked about 
fishing until the fire died down, when they spread their 
blankets upon their couches of soft spruce twigs. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SCHOONER REAPPEARS 

I T was early in the evening when after a toilsome 
march Mr. Barclay and the boys reached a Siwash 
rancherie built just above high-water mark on the pebbly 
beach of a sheltered inlet. Frank had already discovered 
that the northern part of the Pacific Slope is a land of 
majestic beauty, but he had so far seen nothing quite 
so wild and rugged as the surroundings of the Indian 
dwelling. Behind it, a great rock fell almost sheer, 
leaving only room for a breadth of shingle between its 
feet and the strip of clear green water. On the oppo- 
site side mighty firs climbed the face of a towering hill 
so steep that Frank wondered how they clung to it, 
and at the head of the tremendous chasm a crystal 
stream came splashing out of eternal shadow. Seaward 
a wet reef guarded the inlet’s mouth, with its outer 
edge hidden by spouts of snowy foam, upon which the 
big Pacific rollers broke continually, ranging up in tall 
green walls and crumbling upon the stony barrier with 
a deep vibratory roar which rang in long pulsations 
across the stately pines. 

The rancherie was a long and rather ramshackle, 
single-storied, wooden building not unlike a frame barn, 
only lower, and Frank discovered that although it was 
inhabited by the whole Siwash colony there were no 
divisions in it, but each inmate or family claimed its 
allotted space upon the floor. A tall pole rudely carved 
with grotesque figures stood in front of it, and it occurred 
to Frank as he inspected them that he was face to face 
with the rudiments of heraldry. The nobles of ancient 
1S7, 


138 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Europe, he remembered, blazoned devices of this kind 
upon their shields, and their descendants still painted 
their lions and griffins and eagles upon their carriages 
and stamped them upon their note paper. He was prob- 
ably right in his surmises, though there are different 
views upon the subject of totem poles, and the Siwash, 
who ought to know most about them, seem singularly 
unwilling to supply inquirers with any reliable informa- 
tion. 

A group of brown-faced, black-haired men and women 
dressed much as white folks stood about the rancherie, 
and near them were ranged rows of shallow trays of 
bark containing drying berries. Frank noticed that the 
woods were full of the latter — hat berries, salmon ber- 
ries, and splendid black and yellow raspberries. Several 
big sea canoes were drawn up at the edge of the water, 
and Mr. Oliver sat near one of them with another 
cluster of Siwash gathered about him. They had 
spread a number of peltries out upon the stones, which 
Mr. Oliver explained were seal skins. Frank examined 
one, and found it difficult to believe that this coarse, 
greasy, and nastily smelling hair was the material out 
of which the beautiful glossy furs were made. He con- 
fided his views to Harry. 

“ Yes,” said the latter, “ they're not much to look at 
now. They have to go through quite a lot of dressing, 
and I’ve heard that in the first place all the long out- 
side hair is plucked out. There's an inner coat.” He 
looked at the men. “It’s done in England, isn’t it ? ” 

Mr. Barclay smiled. “ A good deal of it is, anyway.” 
Then he addressed Mr. Oliver. “ You’re buying some 
of these peltries?” 

“ One or two,” was the answer. “We want an ex- 
cuse for this visit.” 

Mr. Barclay made a sign of assent, and after chaffer- 
ing with the Indians for a few moments Mr. Oliver 
broke in again : “ They’re cheap, that’s sure. I suppose 


THE SCHOONER REAPPEARS 139 


these fellows would rather sell them on the spot for dol- 
lars down than pack them along down to Alberni or some 
other place where they’d probably have to take grocery 
stores in payment. If you’re open to make a deal we’ll 
take two or three between us. We ought to get our 
money back with something over in Victoria.” 

Mr. Oliver kept up the bargaining for a while, and 
then explained that he and his companion did not care 
for the rest of the skins, which were inferior to those 
they had chosen. One of the Siwash thereupon informed 
him that more canoes were expected in a day or two, 
adding that he would probably be able to show them 
further peltries if they could wait their arrival. 

“ Tell him we’ll stay,” said Mr. Barclay. “ At the 
same time you had better ask him if there’s any likeli- 
hood of our getting down to Victoria by water. You 
can say we’ve had about enough crawling through the 
bush — it’s a fact that I have — and lead up to the 
question naturally.” 

Frank, observing a twinkle in Harry’s eyes, watched 
the Indians’ faces when Mr. Oliver addressed them, 
but they remained perfectly expressionless. 

“ I can’t get anything out of them about the schooner,” 
Mr. Oliver reported at length. “ This fellow says the 
easiest way would be to send our Indians back for the 
canoe, which I’ll do. It’s possible that we may chance 
upon a little more information later on.” 

“Where do they get the skins?” Frank asked pres- 
ently, when the Indians had left them. 

“ That’s a point they don’t seem much inclined to 
talk about,” Mr. Barclay answered. “ They probably 
follow them in their canoes as they work up north, 
though it’s only odd seals they pick up in that way. 
The principal supply comes from the Pribyloff Islands 
up in the Bering Sea. It’s supposed that with the 
exception of a few which frequent some reefs lying 
nearer Russian Asia practically all the seals in the North 


140 BOY RANCHERS OF, PUGET SOUND 


Pacific haul out there for two or three months every 
year. The American lessees club them on the land, but 
the crews of the Canadian schooners kill a number in 
open water outside our limit. They claim that although 
the seals are born on American beaches we don’t own 
them when they’re in the sea, but, as it’s suggested that 
they’re not always very particular about their exact dis- 
tance from the islands, their proceedings make trouble 
every now and then. I’m talking about the fur seals ; 
there are several other kinds which are more or less 
common everywhere.” 

He broke off and sat smoking silently for a while, 
looking at the skins. 

“ They seem to have taken your fancy,” Mr. Oliver 
observed presently. 

“ It’s a fact,” Mr. Barclay assented. “ I was just 
thinking I’d like to take that big one and the other 
yonder home with me. My daughter Minnie visits East 
in the winter now and then, and she’s fond of furs, 
though so far I haven’t been able to buy her any par- 
ticularly smart ones. There’s a man I know in Port- 
land who can fix up a skin as well as any one in Lon- 
don. He was a good many years in Alaska trading 
furs for the A. C. C., and some of the Russians who 
stayed behind there taught him to dress them.” 

Mr. Oliver laughed. “ I suppose the thing is quite 
out of the question?” 

“ It is,” said Mr. Barclay dryly. “ You ought to 
know that the United States charges a big duty on for- 
eign furs.” 

“ On foreign ones ! ” broke in Harry, nudging Frank. 
“ A seal born on an American beach could certainly 
be considered an American seal.” 

“ When you import goods into the United States you 
require a certificate of origin, young man.” 

“ That fixes the thing,” said Harry. “ On your own 


THE SCHOONER REAPPEARS 141 

*S' 

showing, those seals originated on the Pribyloffs. 
They’re American.” 

“ Ingenious ! ” exclaimed Mr. Barclay, with a long- 
ing glance at the skins. “ There’s some reason in that 
contention, but won’t you go on? You don’t seem to 
have got through yet.” 

“ In case you felt justified in taking a skin or two,” 
continued Harry thoughtfully, “ I’d like to point out 
that, as a rule, the Customs fellows don’t trouble about 
a sloop the size of ours. We just run up to our moor- 
ings when we come back from a yachting trip, and 
there’s a nice little nook forward which would just hold 
a bundle of those peltries. It’s hidden beneath the 
second cable.” 

Mr. Barclay picked up a piece of shingle and flung 
it at him. 

“ You can stop right now before you get yourself into 
difficulties. What do you mean by proposing a smug- 
gling deal to a man connected with the United States 
revenue ? ” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry answered with a chuckle. “I 
should have waited until the rest had gone.” 

Mr. Barclay regarded him severely, though his eyes 
twinkled. 

“ Your smartness is going to make trouble for you 
by and by,” he said. “ Go and see what that Siwash 
is doing about our supper.” 

Harry moved away, but presently came back to an- 
nounce that the meal was ready. When it was over the 
boys strolled off toward the reef, leaving the men sitting 
smoking on the beach. 

“That boy of yours told me what seemed a rather 
curious thing last night,” said Mr. Barclay, and he 
briefly ran over what Harry had related about the man 
with the peculiar shoulder. 

Mr. Oliver listened in evident astonishment. 


142 BOY, RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ It’s the first time I’ve heard of the matter,” he ex- 
claimed. “ What do you make of it ? ” 

“ In the meanwhile I don’t quite know what to think. 
If that man is boss of the gang it explains a good deal 
that has been puzzling me, but I must own it’s consider- 
ably more than I expected. The general idea was that 
he’d cleared out of the country, which would have been « 
a very natural course in view of the fact that he’d 
probably have been sandbagged if he’d show himself 
after dark on any wharf of two of the coast states. 
Anyway, your son’s description was quite straight. He 
seemed sure of him.” 

“ Harry’s eyes are as good as yours or mine, ,, 
said Mr. Oliver with a smile. Mr. Barclay wrinkled 
his brow. 

“ There’s a point that struck me — though I can’t 
say if it explains the thing. The boy’s only young yet,- * 
he has imagination and, it’s possible, a fondness . for 
detective literature, like the rest of them. Now we’ll 
assume that he had heard of a certain sensational case — 
a particularly grewsome crime on board an American 
ship — and the arrest of the rascal accused of it. I 
needn’t point out that the fellow only escaped on a 
technical point of law and that his picture figured in 
some of the papers. Isn’t that the kind of thing that’s 
likely to make a marked impression on the youthful 
mind? ” 

“ I can see two objections,” responded Mr. Oliver. 

“ In the first place, Harry was away in Idaho while the 
case was going on. The second one’s more important. 
Harry might try to put the laugh on you, as he did not 
long ago, but when he makes a concise statement it’s to 
be relied upon. In such a case I’ve never known him 
to let his imagination run away with him.” 

Mr. Barclay spread his hands out in a deprecatory 
manner. 

“ Then we’ll take the thing for granted, and it certainly 


THE SCHOONER REAPPEARS 


US 


simplifies the affair. Pd no trouble in finding the 
Chinese colony, and though I’ve no idea how they get the 
dope, that doesn’t matter. The point is that it’s very 
seldom anybody is likely to disturb them in this part 
of the bush, and there are two inlets handy. A schooner 
could slip in here a dozen times without being noticed 
by anybody except the Siwash. Then we have the fact 
that a notorious rascal who has evidently a hand in the 
thing was seen heading for the Chinese colony. It 
seems to me decisive.” 

“What are you going to do about it?” Mr. Oliver 
asked. 

“ Wait and keep my eyes open. If it appears advis- 
able I may communicate with the Canadian authorities 
later on, though, of course, we must contrive to get our 
hands on the fellows in American waters. I’ve an idea 
it can be done.” 

Mr. Oliver said nothing further, and by and by, when 
a thin haze rolled down from the hillside and night 
closed in, they strolled toward the rancherie, where they 
were given a strip of floor space not far from the en- 
trance. The boys came in a little later and lay down 
apart from them and nearer the door, but Frank did 
not go to sleep. The rancherie was hot and the dull 
roar of the combers on the reef came throbbing in and 
made him restless. He lay still for what seemed a 
considerable time, and at last there was a low sound 
which might have been made by somebody rising stealth- 
ily, after which a dim black object flitted out of the 
door. Then Harry, who lay close to him, touched his 
arm. 

“ Are you asleep ? ” he asked very softly. 

“ No,” answered Frank. “ Where’s that fellow go- 
ing?” 

“ Get out as quietly as you can,” was Harry’s reply. 

Frank had kept his shirt and trousers on, and after 
feeling for his boots he arose cautiously, holding them 


144 BOY RANCHERS OR PUGET SOUND 


in his hand. In another moment or two he had slipped 
out into the cool night air and was crossing the shingle 
in his stockinged feet. Once or twice a stone rattled, 
but he supposed the sound was lost in the clamor of 
the reef, for nobody seemed to hear it. When they had 
left the rancherie some distance behind they sat down. 

“ Now,” said Harry, “ I’ll tell you my idea. They’re 
expecting the schooner and don’t want her to run in 
while we’re about. They’ve probably had a man on 
the lookout down by the entrance, and I expect the fel- 
low who went out has been sent by the boss or Tyee 
to learn if the other one has seen her.” 

“ It’s curious some of them didn’t hear us,” Frank 
observed thoughtfully. 

“ I’m not sure that they didn’t,” Harry admitted. 
“Anyway, they couldn’t stop us without some excuse, 
and, if I’m right, they certainly wouldn’t want to tell 
us why they wished us to stay in. Of course,” he added, 
“ it might make them suspicious, but I don’t know any 
reason why we should point that out to Barclay. The 
great thing is to keep out of sight in case they follow 
us.” 

They put on their boots and crept along in the gloom 
beneath the rock, heading toward the reefs. A little 
breeze blew down the hollow, setting the dark firs to 
sighing, and part of the inlet lay black in their shadow. 
The rest sparkled in the light of a half-moon which had 
just risen above the crest of the hill. They could hear 
the soft splash and tinkle of water rippling among the 
stones, but now and then this sound was drowned as the 
roar of the reef grew louder and deeper. Presently a dim, 
filmy whiteness in front of them resolved itself into a 
glimmering spray cloud and fountains of spouting foam, 
and when at length they stopped among a cluster of wet 
boulders they could see a black ridge of rock thrusting 
itself out, half buried, into a mad turmoil of frothing 
water. It lay in the shadow of the rock, and there was 


THE SCHOONER REAPPEARS 


145 


no moonlight on the ghostly combers which came seeth- 
ing down upon it. A little outshore, however, the sea 
sparkled with a silvery radiance except where the shadow 
of a black head fell upon it. There was not more than 
a moderate breeze, but the Pacific surge breaks upon 
and roars about those reefs continually. 

A little thrill ran through Frank as he leaned upon 
one of the wet boulders. It was the first time he had 
trodden a Pacific beach, and he realized that he had 
now reached the outermost verge of the West. He 
could go no farther. The ocean barred his progress, 
and beyond it lay different lands, whose dark-skinned 
peoples spoke in other tongues. The white man’s civil- 
ization stopped short where he stood. Then as he 
watched the ceaseless shoreward rush of the big combers 
and looked up at black rock and climbing pines, a strange 
delight in the new life he led crept into his heart. 
Dusky shadow and silvery moonlight seemed filled with 
glamour, and he was learning to love the wilderness as 
he could never have loved the cities. Besides, he was 
there to watch for the mysterious schooner, and that 
alone was sufficient to stir him and put a tension on his 
nerves. It was more than possible that there were other 
watchers hidden somewhere in the gloom. 

He did not know how long they waited, with the salt 
spray stinging their faces and the diapason of the surf 
in their ears, but at last she came, breaking upon his 
sight suddenly and strangely, as he felt it was most fitting 
that she should do. Her black headsails swept out of 
the shadow of the neighboring head, the tall boom-fore- 
sail followed, and a second later he saw the greater 
spread of her after canvas. She drove on, growing 
larger, into a strip of moonlight, when, for the wind was 
off the shore, he saw her hull hove up on the side 
toward him, with the water flashing beneath it and 
frothing white at her bows. 

“ She’s close-hauled,” said Harry. “ They’ll stretch 


146 BOY. RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


across to the other side and then put the helm down and 
let her reach in. It’s a mighty awkward place to make 
when the wind’s blowing out.” 

She plunged once more into the shadow, but Frank 
could still see her more or less plainly — a tall, slanted 
mass of canvas flitting swiftly through the dusky blue- 
ness of the night. She edged close in with the reef, 
still carrying everything except her main gaff-topsail, 
and then as her headsails swept across the entrance the 
splash of a paddle reached the boys faintly through the 
clamor of the surf and they heard a hoarse shout. 

“ There’s a canoe yonder,” announced Harry. “ The 
Siwash in her is hailing them. They’ve heard him. 
Her peak’s coming down.” 

A clatter of blocks broke out and the upper half of 
the tall mainsail suddenly collapsed. Then the schooner’s 
bows swung around a little until they pointed to the 
seething froth upon the opposite beach. 

“What are they doing?” Frank asked. “She’s go- 
ing straight ashore.” 

Harry laughed excitedly. “ No,” he said, “ that 
Siwash has told them to clear out again, and it will want 
smart work to get her round in this narrow water. 
They’ve dropped the mainsail peak because she wouldn’t 
fall off fast enough.” 

Frank watched her eagerly for the next moment or 
two. Her bows were swinging around, but they were 
swinging slowly, and the beach with the white surf 
upon it seemed ominously close ahead. He saw two 
black figures go scrambling forward and haul the stay- 
sail to windward, but she was still forging across the 
inlet. Then her bows fell off a little farther, the trailing 
gaff swung out with a bang, and Frank saw the masts 
fall into line with him and a bent figure behind the 
deckhouse struggling with the wheel. In another mo- 
ment her mainsail came over with a crash and she was 
flitting out to sea again. 


THE SCHOONER REAPPEARS 147 


“ Now,” cried Harry, “ back up the beach for your 
life! We’re going in swimming!” 

“ You can do what you like,” grunted Frank. “ I’m 
heading straight for the rancherie.” 

“ After the swim,” urged Harry. “ Get a move on 
and loose your things as you run. I’ll explain later.” 

He ran on, flinging off his clothes, and plunged into 
the water when they drew near the rancherie. In an- 
other moment or two Frank waded in after him and 
was glad he had done so when he heard the soft splash 
of a canoe paddle somewhere in the gloom. He fancied 
that the Siwash would see them, which, as he realized, 
was what Harry had desired. They were some distance 
from the mouth of the inlet and he did not think the 
schooner would have been visible from the spot, which 
led him to believe that if the Indians had noticed their 
absence their present occupation might serve as an ex- 
cuse for it. 

He did not see the canoe reach the beach, but in two 
or three minutes Harry suggested that they might as 
well go out, and putting on some of their clothes they 
made for the rancherie. Creeping into it softly, they 
lay down and soon afterward went to sleep. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A TEST OF ENDURANCE 

T HE boys were sitting on the beach next morning 
after breakfast when Mr. Oliver looked across 
at Harry, who had not yet said anything about their 
adventures. 

“ What were you two doing last night ? ” he asked cas- 
ually. 

Harry started. “ Then you heard us ? ” 

“ I did,” said his father. “ You were out of the door rl 
before I quite realized what was going on, and it didn’t 
seem altogether wise to commence talking when you 
came back, but that’s not the point. You haven’t an- 
swered my question.” 

“We went in swimming,” Harry informed him with 
a grin. 

“ Considering that most people would prefer to swim 
in daylight, I wonder if you had any particular reason 
for choosing the middle of the night?” mused Mr. 
Oliver thoughtfully. 

“ Why, yes,” was Harry’s answer. “ I’ve a notion 
it was rather a good one. I wanted the Siwash to see 
us in the water, because it would explain the thing. 
There were at least two of them about the beach, though 
only one left the rancherie after we came into it.” 

“ Then the fellow must have gone out a good deal 
more quietly than you did, because I didn’t hear him. 

I suppose you felt you had to get after him and see what 
he was doing?” 

Mr. Barclay smiled and waved his hand. 

“ Sure,” he broke in. “ The temptation would be irre- 
148 


A TEST OF ENDURANCE 


149 


sistible. What else would you expect from two enter- 
prising youngsters like these, who have no doubt been 
studying detective literature and the exploits of other 
young men in the brave old jayhawking days?” 

A flush crept into Harry’s face, but he answered qui- 
etly : 

“ Well, it’s perhaps as well we went, because I can 
tell you what the Siwash were watching for. We saw 
the schooner,” 

Mr. Barclay gave a sudden start and cast a significant 
glance at Mr. Oliver. 

“ The dramatic climax ! There’s no doubt you have 
sprung it upon us smartly, but now you have worked it 
off you can go ahead with the tale.” 

Harry told him what they had seen and when he had 
Tiished Mr. Barclay seemed to be considering the matter 
ponderously. Then he turned to Mr. Oliver. 

“ It seems to me there’s nothing more to keep us here.” 

“ No,” said the rancher. “ On the other hand, it 
might, perhaps, be better if we waited until those canoes 
arrive — if it’s only for the look of the thing.” 

His companion made a sign of agreement and neither 
one said anything further on the subject. The boys 
lounged about the beach and gathered delicious berries 
in the woods most of the day, and on the following day 
two more canoes ran in. Their crews had, however, 
traded off their peltries somewhere else, and shortly after 
their arrival Mr. Oliver and his party left the inlet 
in the canoe which he had sent the Indians back to bring. 
The weather had changed in the night, and when they 
paddled down the strip of sheltered water their ears 
were filled with the clamor of the surf, and the hillsides 
were lost in thin drizzle and sliding mist. A filmy 
spray cloud hung about the entrance, and beyond it big, 
gray combers tipped with froth came rolling up in long 
succession. The sight of them affected Frank disagree- 
ably, and he was not astonished when Mr. Oliver, who 


150 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


spoke to one of the Indians, suggested that he and Harry 
had better help v^ith the spare paddles until they were 
far enough off shore to get the masts up. 

Frank found it hard enough work, for the sea was 
almost ahead and the canoe lurched viciously, pitching 
her bows out. The crag beyond the inlet, however, 
still slightly sheltered them, and straining at the paddle 
with the rain in their faces they made shift to drive 
her over the big, gray-sided ridges, though every now 
and then the frothing top of one came splashing in. At 
length one of the Siwash lifted the short mast forward 
iuto its place, and thrusting in the sprit, shook loose 
the sail. His companion, who knelt aft gripping a 
long-bladed paddle, seized the sheet, and the craft, gath- 
ering speed, headed out toward the point to lee of them. 
When she had cleared it the Siwash raised a second mast 
farther aft, and setting the sail upon it, slacked both 
sheets, after which the canoe drove away at what seemed 
to Frank an astonishing pace. As a matter of fact, 
she was traveling very fast, for a narrow, shallow- 
bodied craft of that kind is very speedy so long as the 
wind is more or less behind her. 

Sitting with his back against her hove-up weather side 
he noticed rather uneasily that the opposite one was 
almost level with the brine. Then he glanced astern at 
the combers that followed them, and was by no means 
comforted by the sight. They were unlike the short, 
tumbling waves he had seen already in land-locked water, 
for they were larger and longer, and swept up with a 
kind of stately swing until they broke into seething 
foam. Their rise and fall seemed measured, and they 
rolled on in their ceaseless march in well-ordered ranks. 
It struck him that the canoe was carrying a dangerous 
press of sail, but nobody else appeared disturbed, and 
he admitted that the Indians probably knew how much 
it was safe to spread. 


A TEST OF ENDURANCE 


151 


“Isn’t she making a great pace?” he asked of Mr. 
Oliver, who sat nearest him. 

“ Yes,” was the answer, “ I’ve made two or three trips 
in these canoes, but I never saw one driven quite so 
hard. These fellows are probably afraid the breeze 
will freshen up, and want to get as far as possible 
before it does.” 

They ran on for a couple of hours, seeing nothing 
but the ranks of tumbling combers, except at intervals 
when the haze thinned a little and they made out a 
shadowy mass which might have been high and rocky 
land over the port side. In the meanwhile the seas 
were steadily getting bigger, and a good deal of water 
came in at irregular intervals. By and by, the boys 
were kept busy bailing it out, and the Indian who was 
not steering held the sheet of the larger sail. 

At length, when the tops of two or three seas splashed 
in over the foam-washed stern in quick succession, the 
helmsman raised his hand and there was a wild thrash- 
ing as his companion loosened the after-sheet. Rolling 
the sail together he flung the mast down, and the canoe 
ran on with only the forward one set, which seemed to 
Frank quite sufficient. The sea was on her quarter, 
and each comber that came up boiled about her in a great 
surge of foam, and heaved her up before it left her to 
sink dizzily into the hollow. Each time she did so 
Frank was conscious of a curious and unpleasant feeling 
in his interior. 

He had, however, no difficulty in eating his share of 
the crackers and canned provisions Mr. Oliver presently 
handed around, and after that he was kept too busy 
bailing to notice anything until late in the afternoon 
when he heard the two Indians muttering to one an- 
other. The result of the discussion was that one of them 
pulled the sprit out, and folding down the peak left 
only a small three-cornered strip of sail. Frank under- 


152 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


stood the cause for this when he glanced at the seas, 
which looked alarmingly big. It was disconcerting to 
realize that they could take no more sail off the canoe 
unless they lowered the mast altogether, and where the 
beach was he could not tell. He had seen no sign of 
it for the last two hours, and it was now raining 
viciously hard. 

Nobody seemed inclined to talk, and there was only 
the roar and splash of the combers behind them as they 
drove wildly on, until when dusk was close at hand 
the dim shadow of a hill rose up suddenly on one side 
of them. Then the Indian hauled the sheet, and pres- 
ently when the water became smoother, called to his 
companion, who thrust the sprit up again. After that 
the canoe put her lee side in every now and then, but 
very soon a foam-fringed point stretched out ahead. 
They swept around it, and after skirting a half-seen, 
rocky beach ran with spritsail thrashing into a little 
basin down to which there crept rows of mist-wrapped 
trees. 

Frank was thankful to get out when the helmsman 
ran her ashore, and the work of assisting the Indians 
to chop branches and make a fire put a little warmth 
into him. They made supper when darkness closed down, 
and afterward the Indians erected a rude branch-and- 
bark shelter, while the white men and the boys huddled 
together in the tent. It was better than sitting in the 
foam-swept canoe, but Frank longed for the sloop’s low- 
roofed cabin. 

He went to sleep, however, wet as he was, and after 
an early breakfast next morning they started again, 
with both spritsails up in torrential rain. The water 
was comparatively smooth, though the doleful moaning 
of the firs fell from the half-seen hills, and Mr. Oliver 
announced that the entrance to the canal they had come 
down was not far away. Frank had learned that on 


A TEST OF ENDURANCE 153 

the Pacific Slope canal generally means a natural arm 
of the sea. 

They reached its entrance presently, sailing close- 
hauled, and on stretching across it the canoe plunged 
viciously on a short, white-topped sea. The wind was 
blowing straight down the deep rift in the hills, and 
Frank remembered with regret that Alberni stood a long 
way up at the head of the inlet. They came back on 
the other tack, making almost nothing, and the Siwash 
pulled the masts down before one of them spoke to 
Mr. Oliver. 

“ I suppose they can’t get the canoe to windward ? ” 
suggested Mr. Barclay. 

“ He says we’ll have to paddle,” Mr. Oliver answered. 
“ There seem to be four paddles in her and that will 
leave two of us to relieve the rest in turn.” 

Harry and Frank took the first spell with the Indians, 
and they had had enough of it before an hour had 
passed. The wind was dead ahead of them, and though 
they crept in close with the beach they were met by 
little, spiteful seas. It was necessary to fight for every 
fathom, thrashing her slowly ahead by sheer force of 
muscle. Frank’s hands were soon sore and one knee 
raw from pressing it against the craft’s bottom. He 
got hot and breathless, the rain was in his face, and his 
side began to ache, and it was a vast relief to him 
when Mr. Oliver finally took his place. 

The mists were thinning when he sat down limply 
in the bottom of the craft, and great rocky hills and 
dusky firs crawled slowly by, except when now and 
then a fiercer gust swept down, whitening all the inlet, 
and they barely held their own by desperate paddling. 
Then as it dropped a little they forged ahead again. It 
was dreary as well as very arduous work, but there was 
no avoiding it, for their provisions were almost gone and 
there was no trail of any kind through the bush. Frank 


154 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


felt that even paddling into a strong head wind was better 
than smashing through continuous thorny brakes and 
floundering over great fallen logs. 

One hand commenced to bleed when he next took 
his turn, but that was, as he realized, not a matter of 
much importance. They had to reach Alberni some- 
time next day, and his chief concern was how it could 
be done. Then the pain in his side set in again and 
became rapidly worse, and he set his lips tight as he 
swung gasping with each stroke of the splashing blade. 
They won a foot or so each time the paddles came 
down, and it was somewhat consoling to recognize it. 
He felt that if he had been called upon to do this kind 
of thing after sleeping wet through upon the ground 
when he first came out he would have immediately col- 
lapsed, but he was steadily acquiring the power to dis- 
regard bodily fatigue. 

There was no change as the day slipped by. It rained 
pitilessly, and the wind continually headed them as they 
labored on wearily with set, wet faces and straining 
muscles. The stroke must not slacken, for the moment 
it grew feebler the canoe would drive astern. They kept 
it up until nightfall, and then beaching the canoe lay 
down once more in the tent, which strained in the wind. 
They were aching all over when they rose next morn- 
ing, and the work was still the same, but they reached 
Alberni, worn out, early in the evening. It was a very 
small place then, though it afterward sprang up into a 
mining town. Two or three ranch houses stood in their 
clearings beside a crystal river, and a few more build- 
ings clustered at the head of the inlet half hidden in the 
bush. There was a store and a frame hotel among them, 
and Mr. Oliver, who took up quarters in the latter, told 
the boys that the stage would start on the following 
morning. The Indians were given shelter in one of the 
outbuildings, and the hotelkeeper insisted on locking 
up the dog, who growled at everybody about the place. 


A TEST OF ENDURANCE 


155 


“ I’m not scared of dogs/' he explained, “ but that 
one of yours won’t let me get about my own house. 
Besides, I guess he’d eat some of those Chinamen before 
morning if you leave him loose.” 

They were standing near a window, and Mr. Oliver 
glanced at one or two blue-clad figures lounging under 
the dripping trees. 

“ You seem to have a number of them about,” he re- 
marked. “ I saw another lot as I came in. What are 
they doing here ? ” 

“ Stopping for the night,” was the answer. “ They’re 
camping in a barn of mine and going on to the gold 
creek at sun-up, though they may start earlier if the 
rain stops. Quite a few of them have come in over 
the trail lately.” 

“ Then there must be a regular colony in the bush,” 
broke in Mr. Barclay, who had strolled up. 

“ No,” replied the hotelkeeper, “ that’s the curious 
thing. They keep on coming in by threes and fours, 
but Blake from the ranch higher up the river was 
through that way not long ago, and he said he didn’t 
see many of them yonder. About two dozen, he figured, 
but more than that have come through here to my cer- 
tain knowledge.” 

“ It looks as if the gold-washing didn’t pay and the 
rest had gone on somewhere,” Mr. Barclay suggested 
carelessly. 

The hotelkeeper looked bewildered. “ Well,” he said, 
“ this is the only trail to the settlements, and they cer- 
tainly haven’t come back this way. It’s mighty rough 
traveling through the bush, as you ought to know.” 

Mr. Barclay smiled ruefully as he glanced down at 
his torn clothing and badly damaged boots. “ That’s 
a sure thing. Besides, they’d have their truck to pack 
along, which would make it more difficult. Those fellows 
generally bring a lot of odds and ends with them.” 

“ Oh, yes,” assented the hotelkeeper. “ Most of them 


156 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


have their slung baskets on poles. Anyway, I’ve no 
fault to find with them. They make no trouble.” 

He walked off, and when Mr. Barclay and Mr. Oliver 
went out, Harry gave a triumphant glance at Frank. 

“ Now,” he said, “ you see what our friend has found 
out without giving himself away. The question is, 
where do those Chinamen who don’t stay with the gold- 
washing get to ? ” 

Frank laughed. “ I expect Barclay could give you 
an answer. There’s another thing he could probably 
guess at, and that’s what they’ve got in some of those 
slung baskets.” 

Then they moved back toward the lighted stove, for 
the rain drove against the frame walls and it was damp 
and chilly in the big bare room. 


CHAPTER XV 


A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 

I T was getting dark when the boys retired to their 
room, in which two beds were standing at opposite 
corners. Harry chose the one nearest the door, and 
they left the window open. The room was, as usual in 
such places, very scantily furnished, but it appeared 
very comfortable after their camps in the dripping bush, 
and Frank found it a luxury to get his clothes off and 
lie down upon a comparatively soft mattress. 

A draught blew in at intervals through the window, 
and the door, which would not shut, swung to and fro. 
It was raining as hard as ever, for Frank could hear 
a muffled roar upon the shingled roof, and the pines 
outside were wailing dolefully. He soon went to sleep, 
however, but was awakened later by the sound of voices 
and a soft patter of feet below. The rain seemed to 
have stopped at last, though he could hear a heavy 
splashing from the branches of the firs close by, and 
he fancied that the Chinamen must be starting. There 
was, however, no sign of morning when he glanced 
toward the window, which showed only as a faintly 
lighter square in the surrounding obscurity. In fact, it 
seemed unusually dark, which struck him as curious, 
since there was a moon, but the hotel stood in a valley 
shrouded by giant trees and he supposed that the sky 
was thick with cloud. 

He heard the voices grow fainter and the footsteps 
gradually recede until they were lost in the moaning 
of the pines, and he felt that he did not envy the China- 
men their journey. He wondered why they had not 
157 


158 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


waited until sunrise before starting, and then remem- 
bered that a rancher he had met had told him that a 
trail led out of the settlement for some distance. He 
supposed it would be light before the Chinamen should 
reach the end of it and plunge into the forest. About 
a quarter of an hour had slipped away when, lying half 
asleep, he thought that he heard some one in the room. 
He could see nothing but the window, and could hear 
little else than the sound of the wind among the trees, 
but raising himself very cautiously on one elbow he 
distinctly heard a faint sound that suggested a stealthy 
movement. This seemed very curious, for he felt almost 
certain that if his companion had had any idea of trying 
to find out something about the Chinamen he would 
have told him, besides which, the Chinamen had gone. 

While he lay still listening with tingling nerves there 
was a soft scraping and presently a very pale blue 
flame broke out, showing a shadowy figure in a loose 
robe bending over Harry’s bed with a light in its hand. 
Frank did not pause to consider what the stranger’s 
intentions might be, but reached for his boot, which was 
a heavy one, and flung it with all his might at the 
shadowy object’s head. It struck the boarded wall with 
a startling crash, the light suddenly went out, and he 
sprang from his bed in the darkness with a cry of 
“ Harry ! ” 

“Well,” said his companion drowsily, “what’s the 
matter ? ” 

“ Where’s the Chinaman? ” shouted Frank, darting to- 
ward the door. 

He ran out into a passage with Harry blundering 
half awake behind him, and noticed that there was an 
open window near the door which had been shut when 
he had last seen it. On reaching it he espied what 
seemed to be the roof of a low outbuilding not far below, 
but there was very little else to be seen except the loom 
of the dusky pines which were beginning to stand out 



“a shadowy figure 


IN A LOOSE ROBE BENT OVER HARRY’S 

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A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 


159 


against the sky. Then he heard a rush of pattering 
feet and a yelp on the stairway close by, and a furry 
body flung itself against his knee. He recognized the 
dog, who almost immediately darted into the room. It 
came out again, sprang to the window ledge, and bounded 
to the roof beneath. He heard a soft thud on the shin- 
gles and a bark that sounded farther off, and then for 
a moment or two there was silence again. 

It was broken by the sound of a door flung open, and 
Mr. Barclay came along the passage very lightly dressed, 
with a lamp in his hand. Telling them to follow, he 
walked into the boys’ room, and placed the lamp on a 
bureau before he sat down on the nearest bed. 

“ Now,” he asked, “ what’s the cause of this commo- 
tion ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Harry. “ Perhaps Frank can 
tell you. He seems to have been throwing his boots 
about.” 

Frank, a little nettled, narrated what he had seen. 
Mr. Barclay smiled. 

“ You say the man was standing by Harry’s bed,” he 
observed. “ Did you notice if he had a big knife in 
his hand ? ” 

“ He’d nothing but a match,” Frank answered shortly. 

“ Now that’s curious,” said Mr. Barclay. “ Do you 
suppose he meant to set the bed on fire, or have you 
any idea what he was doing? ” 

Frank heard a slight sound and looking around saw 
Mr. Oliver standing in the doorway, while just then 
a shout came down the passage, apparently from the 
hotelkeeper. 

“What’s the trouble? Is there anything wrong?” 

“ We’re trying to find out,” Mr. Barclay replied. “ It 
doesn’t seem to be serious, anyway.” 

“ Then I’ll put a few clothes on before I come along,” 
said the voice, and a door banged. 

“Jle seemed to be looking down at Harry’s face,” 


160 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


said Frank, who saw that Mr. Barclay was waiting an 
answer. 

Mr. Barclay now turned and favored Harry with a 
critical gaze. 

“ I can’t understand what the fellow wanted to do 
that for.” Then he smiled back at Frank. “ These 
are decadent days. He wouldn’t have got away with 
his scalp on if he’d come creeping into the room of the 
James boys.” 

Harry flushed. “ I suppose you mean to hint that 
Frank imagined it all, sir? Well, he told you the man 
struck a match, and though sulphur matches don’t give 
much light they make a considerable smell. Do you 
notice any particular odor in this room ? ” Then he 
stooped suddenly and picked up a half-burned match. 
“ What do you make of this ? I haven’t struck one.” 

Mr. Barclay examined the match with an abstracted 
expression, and while he did so the dog pattered into 
the room wagging his tail in a deprecatory manner, as 
if to excuse himself for not overtaking the intruder. 
He jumped distractedly around the boys for a moment 
and then crouched down upon the floor with a short 
length of broken cord trailing from his collar. Mr. 
Oliver pointed to it with an amused smile. 

“ It seems to me the dog must have imagined some- 
thing of the same kind as Frank did,” he observed. 

By this time the hotelkeeper arrived and gazed on 
with astonishment while Mr. Barclay briefly explained 
the cause of the commotion. 

“ I’ve never heard anything like this since I’ve been 
in the place,” he declared. “ The Chinamen are out on 
the trail now. Better see if you have lost anything.” 

The couple of dollars that Frank had brought with 
him proved to be still in his pocket, and Harry fished 
out the dollar which belonged to him. His cheap watch 
was safe beneath his pillow, and Frank declared that 
he had left his silver one at the ranch. This appeared 


A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 


161 


to make the matter more inexplicable to the hotelkeeper. 

“If the fellow had gone off with something, I could 
have understood it,” he said in a puzzled way. 

. “ It’s most likely that Frank saw him almost imme- 
diately after he came in,” said Mr. Oliver. “As he 
pitched his boot at him, the man was probably startled 
and got out without wasting any time in looking round. 
Then the dog broke loose and went after him.” 

The hotelkeeper agreed with this and shortly after- 
ward Mr. Oliver, telling the boys not to trouble them- 
selves any further about the matter, followed him out 
with Mr. Barclay. They turned into the latter’s room, 
where Mr. Oliver sat down. 

“I imagine that Frank’s notion is correct,” he said. 
“ As Harry told you, he and Frank once paid a visit 
to the Chinese camp near our ranch where he saw the 
man with the high shoulder and followed him to a shack 
from which he disappeared. If the Chinaman who crept 
into the room chanced to have been about the camp when 
the boys were there, it’s quite possible that he did wish 
to see Harry’s face.” 

“ That,” Mr. Barclay admitted, “ is my own opinion, 
though it seemed wiser not to impress it on the boys. 
I don’t suppose you want them to get to making any 
investigations on their own account ? ” 

“ No,” rejoined Mr. Oliver. “ On the other hand, 
they’ve taken a certain part in the matter already. In 
fact, it might have been better if I’d left them behind. 
The trouble is that if the Chinaman recognized Harry 
it would probably give him some idea as to why we 
made this visit.” 

Mr. Barclay nodded his head. “ Yes,” he said. “ It’s 
a pity, but, after all, I’m rather glad I made this trip. 
It’s going to prove worth while.” 

Nothing .further was said on the subject and silence 
settled down again on the hotel. There was bright 
sunshine when the party started with the stage next 


162 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


morning, and after spending the night at a little col- 
liery town they took the train south. Getting off at a 
small station they found the sloop safe in the cove where 
they had left her. Mr. Barclay, however, went on with 
the peltries to Victoria, which was not far away, and 
there managed to dispose of them, after which he hired 
a horse and rode back to the inlet. They set sail as 
soon as he arrived, and after two days of light winds 
duly reached the cove near the ranch. 

A few months slipped by peacefully. The smugglers 
showed no sign of further activity, and Mr. Oliver got 
his oat crop in undisturbed. One way or another he 
kept the boys busy from morning until night, but at 
last when the maple leaves were beginning to turn he 
told them to take their rifles and go hunting, and they 
set off one morning after breakfast. 

It was a still, clear morning, and now that the fall 
was drawing on there was a change in the bush. Here 
and there a maple leaf caught a ray of sunshine and 
burned like a crimson lamp, the fern was growing yellow, 
and the undergrowth was splashed and spattered with 
flecks of varying color. Even the light in the openings 
seemed different. It was at once softer and clearer than 
the glare of summer, and the shadows seemed thinner 
and bluer than they had been. But there was no dif- 
ference in the great black firs. They lifted their fretted 
spires high against the sky, as they had done for cen- 
turies, and they would remain the same until the white 
man’s ax should sweep the wilderness away. 

The boys were floundering waist-deep in withered 
fern and tangled undergrowth when they heard a rustling 
and scurrying somewhere near their feet, and Harry, 
breaking off a rotten branch from a fallen fir, hurled 
it into a neighboring thicket. 

“ A fool hen ! ” he shouted. “ Jump round this bush, 
and try to put it up.” 

Frank fell intp the thicket in his haste, but he still 


A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 


163 


heard the scurrying in front of him when he scrambled 
to his feet. He kicked a clump of fern, and there 
was no doubt that something rushed away from under- 
neath it, after which he plunged through the brake with 
Harry some yards away on one side of him, but there 
was nothing visible. They hunted the unseen creature 
for what he supposed was about ten minutes with no 
better result. Then a plainly colored bird about the 
size of a pigeon rose from almost under his feet and 
flew to a fir branch some twenty yards away, where it 
perched and looked down at its pursuers unconcern- 
edly. 

“ It doesn't seem scared now," said Frank in aston- 
ishment. 

“ It isn't," Harry answered with a laugh. “ The thing 
feels quite safe once it’s on a branch. I guess that’s 
why it’s called the fool hen, though its proper name 
is the willow grouse. Walk up and try a shot at it — 
only you must cut its head off." 

Frank crept up nearer with a caution which was wholly 
unnecessary, for the bird did not seem to mind him in 
the least when he stopped close beneath it and pitched 
his rifle to his , shoulder, but as he gazed at it over the 
half-moon of the rearsight it seemed to him that its 
neck was exceedingly small. He could not keep the 
forebead fixed on it, and bringing the rifle down he 
rested before he tried it again. Then he felt the butt 
thump his shoulder and the barrel jerk, and a little wisp 
of smoke drifted across his eyes and hung about the 
bushes. When it cleared, the grouse, to his astonish- 
ment, was sitting on the branch as calmly as ever. 

“ It likes it," said Harry. “Try again — only at its 
neck." 

Trying again, Frank succeeded in inducing the bird to 
move to a neighboring branch, after which he braced 
himself with desperate determination for the third 
attempt. This time the jar upon his shoulder was fol- 


164 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


lowed by a soft thud, and he understood why he had 
been warned to shoot only at its neck when he picked 
up his victim. The big .44 bullet had horribly shat- 
tered it. 

“ Could you have shot its head off ? ” he asked after 
he had thrown it down in disgust. 

“ Why, yes,” said Harry. “ Anyway, I can generally 
manage it if the thing sits still. Most of the bush 
ranchers could do it every time.” 

He made this good presently when they found an- 
other bird, for it dropped at his first shot without its 
head. Half an hour later they saw a blue grouse perched 
rather high up in a cedar. 

“ This fellow won’t sit to be fired at,” Harry 
explained. “ Better try it kneeling where you are, if 
you can get the foresight up enough.” 

Frank knelt with his right foot tucked under him and 
his left elbow on his knee. It steadied the rifle con- 
siderably, but he had to cramp himself a little to raise 
the muzzle. Holding his breath he squeezed the trigg 
when a part of the bird filled up the curve of the rea 
sight, but he was mildly astonished when Harry walk 
toward him with the grouse in his hand. 

“ I guess this one could be cooked,” he said dubiously. 
“ We’ll take it along.” 

Frank surveyed his victim with a thrill of pride. It 
was larger than the willow grouse. In fact, it seemed 
to him a remarkably big and handsome bird in spite of 
the hole in it, and he thrust it into the flour bag on his 
back with unalloyed satisfaction. 

“ Is this the thing that makes the drumming in the 
spring?” he asked. 

Harry said that it was, and they scrambled through 
the bush for a couple of hours without seeing anything 
further, until they approached a swampy hollow with 
a steep hillside over which the undergrowth hung un- 
usually thick. 


A MIDNIGHT VISITOR 


165 


“ There ought to be a black bear yonder ; they like 
the wild cabbage,” said Harry. “ We’ll try to crawl 
in. It’s a pity there isn’t a little wind ahead of us.” 

They spent half an hour over the operation, and 
Frank realized that trailing had its drawbacks when he 
found that it entailed burrowing among thorny thick- 
ets and crawling across quaggy places on his hands and 
knees. In spite of his caution sticks would snap and 
it seemed to his strung-up imagination that he was mak- 
ing a prodigious noise. At last, however, there was 
another sound some distance in front of him which 
suddenly became louder. 

“ A bear, sure,” cried Harry excitedly. “ Going off 
up hill. Shoot if you can see it.” 

Frank gazed intently ahead, but could see absolutely 
nothing, though he could hear a smashing and crashing 
which presently died away again on the slope. Then 
Harry brought down his rifle and turned away. 

“ You can generally hear a black bear,” he said. “ He 
goes straight and rips right through the things a deer 
"ould jump. He’s a kind of harmless beast, anyway.” 
y“ Could we find a deer?” Frank asked, his hopes still 
high. 

“ We’ll try when we’ve had dinner,” replied his com- 
panion. “ I haven’t seen any lately, though that doesn’t 
count for much, because it would be possible not to 
notice one if the woods were full of them. Still, they 
seem to have a way of clearing right out of the country 
every now and then for no particular reason. The bear 
and the timber wolves do the same thing.” 

They ate their dinner sitting among the roots of a 
big cedar, while a gorgeous green and red woodpecker 
climbed about a neighboring trunk. Then Harry stood 
up and shouldered his rifle. 

“ After this we’ll leave the birds alone,” he announced. 
“ You don’t want to make a noise when you’re trailing 
deer.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


FRANK KILLS A DEER 

T HEY plodded through the bush for an hour or 
two without seeing any living thing except a few 
pigeons, and Harry began to look doubtful. 

“ If it was early morning, I’d try one of the rock 
outcrops where nothing grows,” he observed. “ The 
deer get up on to those places out of the dew then. 
As it’s afternoon, I don’t know which way to head.” 

Frank glanced at his clothes. Keen as he was on 
hunting, he would not have been sorry to head for home, 
for his duck trousers were badly torn and one of his 
boots which had been rather the worse for wear when 
he started was almost dropping off his foot. They 
trudged on, however, and accident favored them, as it 
often does when one is hunting, for at last when they 
were in very thick bush Harry dropped suddenly be- 
hind a patch of withered fern. 

“ Look there ! ” he said softly. “ Right ahead of you 
yonder.” 

Frank gazed ahead with straining eyes, but he could 
only see the great trunks stretching back in serried ranks. 
He had heard somewhat to his astonishment that it is 
not often that a novice can see a deer in the bush even 
when it is pointed out to him, but now, it seemed, the 
thing was true. He could have declared that there was 
not a deer anywhere within the range of his vision. 

“ Right in front,” whispered Harry, impatiently. 
“ About seventy yards off. Oh, look yonder ! ’* 

He stretched his hand out and at last Frank noticed 
what seemed to be a very slightly different colored strip 
166 


FRANK KILLS A DEER 


167 , 


of something behind a narrow opening in a thicket. It 
might have been withering fern, or a cluster of fading 
leaves, but he would never have imagined it to be a 
portion of a deer. Then his doubts vanished, for it 
suddenly moved. 

“ Where shall I shoot ? " he asked beneath his breath. 

“ At the bottom of the bit you can see/’ was the low 
answer. 

Frank threw up his rifle. He was too e?ger to kneel 
or lie down, and it scarcely seemed probable that the 
deer would wait until he was comfortably ready. He 
lined the sights on a twig immediately in front of the 
object, and though his hands had quivered he found 
them growing steadier as he squeezed the trigger. He 
heard no report, but there was a crash in the thicket as 
the smoke came drifting back, and Harry ran forward 
with a shout. 

“ Come on ! ” he cried. “ You've hit it ! ” 

Frank ran his fastest, though running of any kind 
was extraordinarily difficult. In places the withered 
fern was higher than his head and there seemed to be 
innumerable bushes in his way, while when he endeav- 
ored to avoid them he generally came upon a giant tree 
which had to be scrambled around. Still, there was no 
doubt that the deer was not far off, for he could hear 
it floundering through the brakes and fern, and by and 
by he came upon a trail of red splashes scattered here 
and there upon the leaves. 

“ It’s hit bad," panted Harry. “ If we can hold out 
we’ll get it yet." 

They did their utmost for the next half hour, but 
they never once saw the deer, which by the decreasing 
sound seemed to be drawing away from them, and 
Frank felt that it would be impossible for him to keep 
up the pace many minutes longer. He was breathless, 
and dripping with perspiration, and his clothes were 
torn all over. Indeed, eager as he was, it was almost 


168 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


a relief when the sound in front of him gradually died 
away, and Harry stopped, gasping, and leaned against 
a fir. 

“What are we going to do about it now?” Frank 
asked. 

“ Trail that deer,” was the breathless answer. “ It’s 
not going very far. You can tell by the noise it made 
that it was hit too bad to jump.” 

Frank was of the opinion that it had gone quite far 
enough already, but he silently watched Harry, who 
began to walk up and down, looking carefully about 
him. 

“ It went through this bush,” he said at length. 
“ After that it must have crossed the fern yonder.” 
Then scrambling forward he waved his hand. “ Come 
on! The trail’s quite plain.” 

Frank followed him with some trouble and once more 
saw the red splashes on the leaves. Now and then they 
lost them for a little while and the undergrowth did 
not seem to have been disturbed, but on each occasion 
Harry contrived to find the spots again. He traced them 
from place to place, moving more slowly and cautiously, 
while Frank painfully broke through the thickets in 
his wake. They were both nearly exhausted when an 
hour after the shot was fired they came to a little creek. 

“ It lay down here,” said Harry. “ We’ll stop a 
minute or two. Guess that deer’s ’most as played out 
as we are.” 

This seemed very probable to Frank as he glanced 
at the broad red smear upon the damp soil, and for the 
first time he was troubled by a sense of compunction 
as he realized that there were two sides to hunting. 
The pursuers’ labor was severe enough, tut he could 
imagine what the flight must have cost the sorely 
wounded creature who had so far managed to keep in 
front of them. He was scratched and torn and ex- 
hausted, but at least he was sound in limb, while the 


FRANK KILLS A DEER 


169 


deer must have staggered on in anguished terror with 
its life steadily draining from the cruel bullet hole. 
Somewhere in his mind there was now a wish that 
he had not made so good a shot. 

“Do you think we’re far behind it?” he asked. 

“ I don’t, but that doesn’t count,” answered Harry. 
“We have to follow it, anyway. I remember when I 
got my first deer. Dad was with me, and before I fired 
he asked if I thought I could hit it where I wanted. I 
said I did, and he told me to make sure, because if the 
beast got away with a bullet in it I’d have to trail it 
until it dropped.” He stopped with a significant laugh. 
“ As it happened, we followed it close on three hours, 
through the thickest kind of bush, and — I wasn’t so 
big then — it was mighty hard work to get back to the 
ranch afterward.” 

Frank fancied that in the present case he might 
drop before the deer did, though he realized that Mr. 
Oliver’s rule was in one way a merciful one and un- 
doubtedly calculated to encourage careful shooting. 
When he had recovered his breath a little they started 
again, but it was half an hour later when they caught 
a glimpse of the deer painfully laboring through a clump 
of fern on the slope of a steep rise. Harry pitched up 
his rifle, and though the animal disappeared again im- 
mediately after they fired, they knew it was still going 
on by the snapping of twigs and the rustling in the fern. 

Harry was sure that he had hit it, and making a last 
effort, they broke into a run which Frank remembered 
for a considerable time afterward. The slope seemed to 
be getting remarkably steep, he could scarcely see a dozen 
yards in front of him through the undergrowth, and 
several times he stuck fast for a moment or two in 
tangled thickets. Then he fell into a horrible tangle 
of rotting branches, dropping his rifle and bruising him- 
self cruelly, and he only succeeded in forcing himself 
along because his companion shouted breathlessly that 


17 Q v BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


the deer was rapidly flagging. Frank could hear it very 
plainly now. 

At last when they reached the summit of the rise it 
came out into open view for a moment. The bush was 
thinner there, with less growth between the trees, and 
he saw the animal limp out from a thicket, dragging 
an injured limb. He flung up his rifle, and Harry who 
was a little in front fired almost as he did. The deer 
staggered, made a feeble bound, and vanished as if the 
earth had opened under it. A moment or two later 
Harry stopped with a hoarse, gasping shout. 

Frank stumbled forward and found him standing on 
the brink of what seemed to be a very deep ravine, the 
almost precipitous sides of which were shrouded in 
young firs and densely growing bushes. Harry was 
gazing dubiously into the gully. 

“ I don’t quite know how we’re going to get down, 
but we’ll have to try,” he said. “ The deer’s at the bot- 
tom done for, and I don’t feel like going home and 
telling dad we left it. Besides, it’s quite likely he might 
send us back for it.” 

“ Then if it has to be done, we may as well get about 
it,” said Frank wearily. 

Slinging his rifle, he crawled over the edge and went 
sliding and slipping down for about a dozen yards until 
he fell into the branches of a young fir. After that 
he plunged into several bushes before he could stop 
again, and eventually lowered himself foot by foot, 
clutching at whatever seemed strong enough to hold 
him, until he alighted knee-deep in a splashing creek. 
Nearby the deer lay motionless where it had fallen upon 
the stones. It was a beautifully symmetrical creature, 
but it seemed to Frank smaller than he had expected. 

“ A young black-tail,” said Harry. “ Anyway, that’s 
what we call them, though I believe it’s really the mule- 
deer. There’s another black-tail. We’ve got the deer 
names kind of mixed up on the Pacific Slope.” 


FRANK KILLS A DEER 


Ml 

Frank regarded the animal dubiously. “ It seems to 
me the most important question is how we’re going to 
get it home.” 

“ Pack it,” answered Harry. “ But I’d better open 
it up first. You can sit down while I do it, if you’d 
rather.” 

Frank would very much have preferred to sit down 
out of sight while the deer was dressed, but it occurred 
to him that it would scarcely be fitting to leave the dis- 
agreeable part of the work to his companion. 

“ No,” he persisted, “ I’ll help as much as I can.” 

“ Well,” said Harry dryly, “ if you want to go hunt- 
ing it’s a thing you’ll have to learn.” 

The operations that followed were singularly unpleas- 
ant, and Frank felt a good deal less enthusiastic about 
hunting when he washed his hands and the sleeves of his 
jacket in the creek after they were over. 

“ I don’t know if I’ll eat any of that deer,” he said. 

“ You’ll get over it,” Harry assured him with a smile. 
“ Anyway, in my opinion deer meat isn’t much of a 
delicacy. It’s that stringy you could ’most make lariats 
of it, unless you keep it until it’s bad.” 

Frank felt inclined later to agree with this statement, 
but in the meanwhile Harry got the deer, which he had 
not yet skinned, upon his shoulders with its fore legs 
pulled over in front of him, and they started back for 
the ranch. It was, however, some time before they 
could find a way out of the gulch, and then they only 
gained the summit by an arduous scramble. After that 
they found themselves in exceedingly thick bush, with 
nothing that Frank could see to guide them. There 
was probably not much light at any time down among 
those great trunks whose branches met and crossed high 
overhead, and what there was seemed to be getting dim. 

“ If we keep on going down we’ll strike something 
by and by,” urged Harry. “ The slope’s naturally to- 
ward the beach.” 


172 BOY RANCHERS OF, PUGET SOUND 


The first thing they struck was a remarkably steep 
hillside, up which they struggled, Frank now carrying 
the deer, which he found heavy enough before he reached 
the top. Then a narrow valley opened up before them, 
which did not seem to be what Harry had expected. 
There were one or two ponds in the bottom of it, and 
he gazed at them thoughtfully. 

“ We might get a duck,” he mused. “ They ought 
to be coming down from Alaska now. It’s freezing 
up there.” 

They floundered down the declivity, and, though Frank 
would have preferred to push on straight for home, 
Harry insisted on creeping through the long harsh grass 
about the edge of the water. They tried one of the 
ponds with no result, but at last Harry dropped sud- 
denly behind a tall clump of grass. 

“ Look ! ” he said. “ There are two or three ducks 
yonder. You take the nearest. Keep the foresight as 
fine as you can.” 

Frank saw one or two small objects floating just out- 
side the grass across the pond. They seemed to be a 
very long way off, and though he feared that he could 
not keep the sights upon any of them standing, the 
ground looked horribly quaggy to kneel in. This could 
not be helped, however, for it seemed that getting wet 
and torn did not count when one was hunting, and he 
pressed his right knee down into the mire. He could 
just see one of the ducks when he closed his left eye, 
and he had misgivings as to the result when he squeezed 
the trigger. Harry’s rifle flashed immediately after 
his, there was a rattle of wings and a startled quacking, 
and he saw two ducks with long necks stretched out 
fly off above the trees. Another seemed to be lying on 
the water, and remembering the size of the bullet, he 
had no fear of that one getting away. 

“ The next thing is to get it,” said Harry. “ It’s 
not going to be easy.” 









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FRANK COULD SEE NOTHING TO- GUIDE THEM 




Prtf/e 171 



FRANK KILLS A DEER 


173 


He was perfectly right. They spent a long while 
struggling around the pond, into which they had to 
wade nearly waist-deep before Harry contrived to rake 
the duck in toward him with the muzzle of his rifle. 
It did not look a sightly object when he had secured it, 
but he decided that there was enough of it left to eat. 

“ Is it the one you shot at ? ” he asked with a grin. 

“ I can’t say,” Frank answered. “ I shouldn’t be 
surprised if it wasn’t.” 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ we’re not going to quarrel 
about the thing. What we have to do is to make a bee- 
line home. We’ll come along again in a week or two. 
The ponds are full of ducks for a little in the spring and 
fall.” 

“ Only then ? ” 

“ They’re not so plentiful between-whiles,” Harry an- 
swered. “ Of course, our worst winters aren’t marked 
by the cold snaps you have back East, and quite a few 
of the ducks stay with us, while some put in the summer, 
too; but in a general way every swimming bird of any 
size heads north to the tundra marshes by the Polar 
Sea in spring. In the fall they come back again, how 
far I don’t know — lower California, Mexico, perhaps, 
right away to Bolivia and Peru. Going and coming, the 
big flocks stop around here to rest a while.” He smiled 
at his companion. “ A mallard duck’s a little thing, but 
he covers a considerable sweep of country.” 

He picked up the deer and they went on again, but 
darkness overtook them before they reached the ranch, 
utterly worn out, with most of their garments rent to 
tatters; and Frank, who had carried the deer the last 
mile or two, gave a gasp of relief when he laid it down. 




CHAPTER XVII 
mr. Webster’s guns 

I T was about a week after the boys’ hunting trip 
when Mr. Oliver’s nearest neighbor, Mr. Webster, 
drove up to the ranch in a dilapidated wagon. It was 
dark when he arrived, for the days were rapidly getting 
shorter. When Jake had taken his horse away he laid 
what appeared to be a small armory on the kitchen table 
and sat down by the stove. He was a young man with 
a careless, good-humored expression, and Harry aside 
informed Frank that his ranch was not much of a place. 

“ I’ve brought you my guns along,” said Mr. Webster, 
addressing Mr. Oliver, and then looked down at the 
dog, who had walked up to him in the meanwhile and 
now stood regarding him with its head on one side. 
“ Hello!” he added, patting it, “I’d ’most forgotten 
you. You have managed to put up with him, Miss 
Oliver?” 

Miss Oliver said that she had grown fond of him, 
and the dog, after standing up with a paw upon the 
man’s knee, dropped down on all fours at the sound of 
her voice and trotted back to her without waiting for 
another pat. 

“ I always had a notion he was an ungrateful as well 
as an ordinary beast,” said Mr. Webster. “ Would 
you have fancied my dog would leave me like that after 
all I’ve done for him? I guess I’ve laid into him with 
’most everything about the ranch from the grubhoe handle 
to the riding quirt.” 

Mr. Oliver laughed. “ But why have you brought 
your guns ? ” 


174 , 


MR. WEBSTER’S GUNS 


175 


“ For you to take care of. My place gets damp in 
winter without the stove on and I’m going away for a 
month or two. I’ve taken on a log-bridge contract with 
a fellow I used to work with, on one of the new settlement 
roads. The man who’s been clearing land up the creek 
took the few head of stock I had off my hands and the 
fruit trees will grow along all right without worrying 
anybody until I get back again. If one hadn’t to do so 
much cutting every now aid then, they’d be a long sight 
handier than raising stoclfl” 

“ Well,” Mr. Oliv^rV^suied, “ I think we can promise 
to look after the guns. I didn’t know you had so many 
of them.” 

Mr. Webster arose and walked toward the table. 
“ Though I never was a great shot, guns are rather a 
hobby of mine. I needn’t say anything about these 
two — single-shot Marlin, Winchester repeater — but 
the old-timers seem to have a notion that a man must 
excuse himself for keeping a scatter gun. This ” — and 
he picked up what seemed to Frank a handsome single 
barrel — “ is a thing I bought for a few dollars last time 
I was in Portland. I allowed she would do to keep the 
pigeons off my oats. Not much of a gun, but she throws 
out the shell.” Then he took up a double gun with 
the brown rubbed off the barrels, leaving bright patches. 
“ This one’s different ; there’s some tone about her. A 
sport I once had boarding with me gave her to me when 
he went away. Said I’d given him a great time, and as 
he was fixed, it might be two or three years before he 
could get out into the woods again.” 

He sat down on the table and looked over with a 
smile at the boys. “ I don’t know any reason why you 
two shouldn’t have those guns until I come back ; they’ll 
keep better if they’re used and rubbed out once in a 
while, and there’s a box of shells in the wagon. You 
can’t call yourself a sport until you can drop a flying 
bird with the scatter gun, and there’s considerably more 


176 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

to it than most of the old-timers who can only plug 
a deer with a rifle seem to think.” 

He evidently noticed the interest in Frank’s face, for 
he proceeded to demonstrate, standing up with the double 
gun held across him a little above his waist. 

“ Now,” he added, “ you don’t want to aim, poking 
the gun about. You keep it down and your eyes on 
the bird, until you’re ready, and then pitch it up right 
on the spot first time — it’s better with both eyes open, 
if you can manage it.” The gun went in to his shoulder 
and Frank heard the striker click, after which the man 
swung the muzzle half a foot or so. “ Say you missed. 
You’ve still got the second barrel — ” 

They heard no more, for there was an appalling 
crash, a short cry from Miss Oliver, and a yelp from 
the dog who jumped into the air, while a filmy cloud 
of smoke drifted about the room. When it cleared 
Mr. Webster, who had opened the door, sat down on 
the table looking very sheepish and turned toward Miss 
Oliver. 

“ I’m sorry — dreadful sorry,” he observed contritely. 
“ I hadn’t the least notion there was anything in the 
thing.” 

Mr. Oliver glanced at the ragged hole high up in 
the log wall and then looked at Mr. Webster with 
ironical amusement in his eyes. 

“ Your instructions were good as far as they went, 
but you have forgotten one rather important point.” 
He turned to the boys. “ It’s this. Never bring a gun 
of any kind into a house without first opening the maga- 
zine or breach, and if there’s a shell in it, immediately 
take it out. It’s a precaution that’s as simple as it’s 
effective, and though there was perhaps some excuse for 
an accident in the old days when a man couldn’t readily 
empty his gun unless he fired off the charge, there’s 
none now.” 

“ Sure,” agreed Mr. Webster, who seemed to be get- 


MR. WEBSTER’S GUNS 


177 


ting over his confusion, for he addressed the boys again. 
“ With winter coming on, the best sport I know with 
a scatter gun is shooting flighting duck, and there’s 
plenty of them along the beach. They’ve a way of 
moving around in flocks between the light and dark, 
which is the best time, though you can get them through 
the night if there’s not too bright a moon. A good 
place would be those patches of sand and mud behind 
the islands, especially when the tide’s just leaving the 
flats. Take the sloop or canoe along sometime and 
try it.” 

The boys thanked him and Frank’s eyes glistened as 
he handled the light single gun. 

“ What are you going to do with your team ? ” asked 
Mr. Oliver, changing the subject. 

“ Anson down by Nare’s Hill will take them for their 
keep, but I might have made a few dollars out of them if 
I’d been staying on.” 

“How’s that?” 

“ Well,” in a significant tone, “ a man came along three 
or four nights ago. I don’t know where he came from, 
and I don’t know where he went — he just walked in 
with the lamp lit when I was getting supper. He 
wanted to know if I was open to hire him a team for a 
night or two.” 

“ What kind of a man ? ” 

“ A stranger. He looked like a sailor and seemed 
liberal. Said he wanted the team particularly, and if 
I’d have them handy when he turned up we needn’t 
quarrel about the figure. That must have meant I could 
charge most what I liked.” 

“ What did you say?” 

Mr. Webster smiled. “ I just told him the horses 
were promised and I couldn’t make the deal. Anyway ” 
— and he added this in a different voice — “ I’d no 
notion of going back on you.” 

“ Thanks,” said Mr. Oliver quietly, and they talked 


178 BOY. RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


about other matters until Webster, making a few more 
excuses to Miss Oliver, drove away. When he had gone 
she looked at her brother and laughed softly. 

“ I was startled but not very much astonished when 
the gun went off,” she said. “ The little incident was 
so characteristic of the man.” 

The next day the boys commenced practicing at hung- 
up meat cans with the cartridges he had given them and 
in a week they could hit one every now and then at 
thirty yards. Soon afterward Mr. Oliver went away. 
He only told the boys that he was going to Tacoma, 
but Harry thought it possible that he wanted to see 
Mr. Barclay, since Mr. Webster’s story made it clear 
that the dope runners were about again. He announced 
ingenuously that they had better try the flight-shooting 
while his father was away, because if they came back 
all right with several ducks he would probably not object 
to their going another time. Miss Oliver seemed doubt- 
ful when they casually mentioned the project to her, 
but as she did not actually forbid it they set out with 
the sloop late one afternoon, taking the dog with them. 

It was falling dusk and the tide had been running 
ebb two or three hours when they beat in under the lee 
side of one of the islands they had passed on a previous 
occasion on their way to the settlement. After anchor- 
ing the sloop where she would lie afloat at low water 
some distance off the beach they got into the canoe 
and paddling ashore crossed the island, which was small 
and narrow. It was covered with thin underbrush and 
dwarf firs, and on its opposite side a broad stretch of 
wet sand and shingle with pools and creeks in it stretched 
back toward the channel, which cut it off from the 
mainland. 

To the eastward, the pale silver sickle of a crescent 
moon hung low in the sky, but westward a wide band 
of flaring crimson and saffron still burned beneath 
dusky masses of ragged cloud and the uncovered sands 


MR. WEBSTER’S GUNS 


179 


gleamed blood-red in the fading glow. A cold wind 
stirred the pines to an eerie sighing, and the splash 
of a tiny surf came up faintly from the outer edge of 
the sands. The whole scene struck Frank as very for- 
bidding and desolate, and he fancied that there was a 
threat of wind in the sky. Something in the loneliness 
troubled him, and for no particular reason he felt half 
sorry that he had come. He realized that it would 
have been much more cozy in the sloop’s cabin than 
upon that dreary beach, and he said something about 
the weather to Harry. 

“ We’ll be sheltered here if the breeze does come up, 
and this looks just the place where we ought to get a 
duck,” his companion answered. “ There aren’t many 
spots like it around this part of the coast, where we’ve 
generally deeper water. Perhaps we’d better move on 
a little nearer yonder clump of firs. They’ll hide us 
from any birds that come sailing down to the flats.” 

“What’s the matter with the dog?” Frank asked. 
“What’s he snuffing at?” 

The animal was trotting about with his nose upon 
the ground and would not come when they called him. 

“ I don’t know,” said Harry carelessly. “ Perhaps 
somebody’s been across the island lately, though I don’t 
think it’s often a white man lands here.” 

They took up their stations a little apart from each 
other among some very rough boulders, with the nearest 
of the firs on a rocky ridge some thirty or forty yards 
away from them. Their ragged branches cut in a sharp 
ebony pattern against the sky, which was duskily blue. 
It was very cold and the wind seemed fresher, for the 
trees were rustling and moaning, and the calling of 
distant wildfowl came up through the increasing mur- 
mur of the surf. 

Frank’s boots had suffered from hard wear in the 
bush, and, as he had stumbled into a pool, his feet were 
very wet, but he crouched behind a boulder, clutching 


180 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


the single-barreled gun with cold fingers, and watching 
the sky beyond the fir tops, for what seemed a consid- 
erable time. Nothing moved across it except a long 
wisp of torn-edged cloud, and he was commencing to 
wonder whether it would not be better to go back to the 
sloop when Harry called softly, and he heard a new 
sound in the darkness somewhere beyond the firs. It 
suggested the regular movement of a row of fans, which 
was the best comparison that occurred to him, for there 
was a kind of measured beat in it, and in another few 
moments he recognized it as the rhythmic stroke of 
wings. Then a double line of dark bodies spreading 
out from a point in the shape of a wedge appeared close 
above him against the sky. 

He saw that they had long necks, but that was all, 
for they were coming on with an extraordinary swift- 
ness. There was a crash as Harry’s gun flung a streak 
of red fire into the darkness. Then Frank pitched up 
the single barrel, pulling hard upon the trigger as the 
butt struck his shoulder. He felt the jar of it and saw 
a whirling blaze, after which he swung around when 
Harry’s gun flashed again. 

The wedge, which had scattered, was reuniting. He 
could just see it dotted upon the sky, but he fancied 
that one dark object had come whirling down and struck 
the flats outshore of him a few seconds earlier. 

“ One, sure ! ” cried Harry. “ I’ve an idea there’s a 
cripple, too, trailing on the ground. Where’s that dog? 
I wonder if he’d hunt it up?” 

They called, but there was no sign of the animal. 

“ He’d probably sit down and eat it, if he got it,” 
said Frank, laughing. “ As he isn’t here, we’d better 
get after the birds.” 

They soon picked up the dead one, a mallard, Harry 
said ; but it was some minutes before they saw the other 
fluttering across a patch of wet sand. Breaking into a 
run they were astonished to find that they did not get 


MR. WEBSTER’S GUNS 


181 ! 


much nearer, and it must be admitted that Frank fired 
again without stopping it. After that, it led them 
through several pools and runlets of water, until at a 
flash of Harry’s gun it lay still, but they were almost 
up to their knees in a little channel before they retrieved 
it. 

“ I wonder how long we’ll have to wait before some 
more ducks come,” said Harry as they made their way 
back to the boulders. Then he suddenly looked about 
him. “ Where can that dog have gone ? ” 

They called a second time, but there was still no an- 
swer, and while they listened it struck Frank that the 
sound of the surf was growing more distinct. 

“ He seemed to be trailing something when I last saw 
him,” he answered. “ I don’t feel keen on going after 
him. The top of the island’s rough. Perhaps, we’d 
better wait here until he comes.” 

They waited for about ten minutes and then a suc- 
cession of quick barks reached them, apparently from 
across the island. There was something startling in the 
sound and Frank turned sharply toward his companion. 

“ He doesn’t bark like that for nothing. Hadn’t we 
better go along?” he suggested. 

They started on the moment, stumbling among the 
boulders and splashing into pools. The going was no 
easier when they reached the firs, but they broke through 
them somehow, and when at length they approached the 
beach, which was steep on that side, the dog came bound- 
ing toward them and then ran back with a growl to 
the edge of the water. Looking around with strained 
attention, Frank made out the sloop, a dim, dark shape 
upon the water, for the moon was covered now. After 
that he ran down toward the edge of the tide, but there 
was nothing unusual to be seen, though the dog again 
yelped savagely. As he stopped close beside the animal 
Harry’s voice reached him. 

“ Where’s the canoe ? ” he cried. 


182 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


It was a moment or two before Frank saw her, and 
then he started and cast a quick glance at the strip of 
beach left uncovered by the ebbing tide. The breeze 
was off the shore, and on arriving they had thrown over 
a lump of iron with a rope mast fast to it and then 
paddled the canoe ashore and shoved her out again to 
drift off as far as the rope would allow her, in order 
to avoid dragging her down over the rough stones when 
they went away. Now she seemed farther off than she 
should have been, and in another moment he realized 
that she was moving. 

“ She’s adrift ! ” he shouted. 

“ Then we will have to get her,” Harry answered. 

Frank laid down his gun and threw off his jacket. 
Harry could swim better than he could, but Harry was 
some distance back and the beach was very rough, while 
it was clear that every moment would increase the dis- 
tance between it and the canoe. He struck his knees 
against something which hurt as he floundered into the 
water, stumbling among the stones, but that did not matter 
then, and as soon as it was deep enough he flung himself 
down. A horrible chill struck through him as he swung 
his left arm out, and he was badly hampered by his boots 
and clothes, and though he swam savagely the canoe 
was still some way in front of him when at length he 
turned breathlessly upon his breast. What was worse, 
she was steadily drifting farther off shore. 

Chilled and anxious as he was, he thought quickly. 
He was far from certain that he could get back to the 
beach, and even if he did so, he would have to spend 
the night wet through without any means of making a 
shelter. The sloop was lying a good way out and he 
did not think that Harry could swim so far in that cold 
water. He was quite sure that he could not, and it was 
evident that there was nothing for it but to overtake the 
canoe. 

For what seemed a very long time he swam desper- 



4 * 


HE WONDERED IF HE COULD LIFT 


HIMSELF 


} * 

IN 








MR. WEBSTER’S GUNS 


183 


ately, and then just as he was almost alongside the craft 
something came up behind him and seized his arm. 
Turning his head with a half-choked cry, he saw that it 
was the dog, who apparently intended to stick fast to 
him. The animal, however, hampered him terribly, and 
flinging it off he made a last effort and contrived to 
clutch the canoe before it seized him again. Holding 
on by the low stern he tried to recover his breath, while 
he wondered if he could manage to lift himself in. It 
seemed to him that if he failed to do it at that mo- 
ment he could not expect to succeed afterward, in 
which case he would in all probability have to let go 
before very long. Setting his lips he made the attempt, 
and falling headforemost into the canoe he lay still for 
a few moments gasping, until he rose and pulled the 
dog on board. Then he hauled up the iron, which was 
still attached to the rope, though it was not upon the 
bottom, and found a paddle. Two or three minutes 
later he was back at the beach, and Harry got in. 

“ Make for the sloop as fast as you can,” he said. 

Frank, now chilled to the bone, was glad to paddle, 
and they were soon alongside. Harry handed him up 
the birds and guns when he got on board, and then 
made the painter fast. 

“ I’ll start the stove first thing while you tie two reefs 
in the mainsail,” he said. “ I guess we’ll want them, 
and the work will warm you.” 

He disappeared below, and before he came out again 
Frank had managed to get the tack and leach down, 
which was not so difficult now that the sail lay along 
the boom. 

Harry gave him a quick look. 

“ Go in and strip yourself,” he said. “ There’s a 
blanket forward and some coffee in the can. I’ll be 
down by the time you have wrung out your things.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


RUNNING A CARGO 

O N crawling into the cabin Frank found the stove 
burning fiercely with the register open full blast. 
He was sitting near it wrapped in a thick blanket from 
which his bare legs and arms protruded when Harry 
joined him. 

“This should thaw you out,” the latter said. “The 
place would do for drying fruit in. Got any coffee 
left?” 

Frank gave him some, and when he had drunk it 
Harry examined some of the garments which were hang- 
ing about the stove. 

“ They’ll be getting fairly dry in half an hour or so 
and then we’ll pull out for home,” he added. “ It’s 
breezing up quite smart now and I’d lie here until 
morning only aunt would get badly scared. She wouldn’t 
say anything, but if Jake got to talking it would prob- 
ably make trouble when dad comes home.” 

“How did the canoe get adrift?” Frank inquired 
sleepily. 

“ That,” said Harry with an excellent imitation of 
Mr. Barclay’s manner, “ is a point I have been inves- 
tigating. To begin with, the killick had been hauled 
up since we pitched it over, and let go again — only 
on the last occasion it was made fast so it wouldn’t 
quite fetch the bottom.” He raised his hand in protest 
as Frank was about to speak. “ It’s a sure thing. One 
strand was chafed where I took a turn with the rope, 
and that frayed bit had got moved a fathom or two 
along. I felt about until I struck it.” 

184 


RUNNING A CARGO 


185 


Frank started, for this confirmed a hazy suspicion 
which had already been in his mind, but he stooped to 
pat the dog, who was licking his uncovered foot. 

“ Hold on. Your tongue’s rough,” he said before he 
looked up at his companion. “ What do you make of 
the thing ? ” 

“Well,” said Harry, “the man who did it wanted it 
to look as if the canoe had gone adrift by accident. He 
was on the island when we came along and the dog got 
after him. It’s most likely he went off in a boat or 
canoe while we were making for the beach after we’d 
heard the barking. Seems to me he’d some reason for 
wanting to keep us here.” 

“ You think he was one of the dope men?” suggested 
Frank. 

“ I wouldn’t be greatly astonished if we saw the 
schooner on our way home,” Harry answered with a 
chuckle. 

There was some excuse for his amusement, because 
Frank looked somewhat ludicrous as he sat thinking 
hard with his brows wrinkled down and the blanket 
falling away from him. 

“ I’ve an idea,” he announced at length. “ The ques- 
tion, of course, is why should the man who set the canoe 
adrift have landed on a desolate place like this? I ex- 
pect it’s just its desolateness that brought him here. 
Now the smugglers probably find it difficult to get hold 
of the dope in Canada, and they may have to save it 
up in small parcels until it’s worth while to send the 
schooner through. She couldn’t come often with only 
a case or two, because it wouldn’t pay and it would 
increase the chances of somebody’s seeing her. On the 
other hand, they may not be able to get rid of the stuff 
immediately when she brings a big lot, and in that 
case they’d be likely to make a cache of part of it where 
nobody would be likely to strike it and their friends 


186 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


could come for it later. This island ought to be just 
the place. ,, 

Harry made a sign of assent. 

“ I guess you’ve hit it first time, but I’ll go up and 
get the mainsail on her. I can manage it alone with 
two reefs in, and you can stay where you are until your 
clothes are a little drier, unless I call you.” 

He went out, and Frank heard a clatter of blocks and 
flutter of canvas. After that there was a sharp rattling 
as Harry hauled in the anchor chain, and then the boat 
suddenly slanted over with a jerk which flung Frank 
backward against the side of her. As he got up 
he heard the water splash about her bows. A few 
minutes later they began to swing sharply up and down, 
and the thuds against them made it evident that the sloop 
was plunging close-hauled through a short, head sea. By 
and by the plunges grew more violent, and struggling 
into his clothes, which were partly dry, Frank put out 
the lamp and crawled out into the well. For a minute 
or two he could see nothing as he held on by the weather 
coaming, though he felt the buffeting of the wind and 
the sting of the spray upon his face. Then by degrees 
he made out that the sloop was lying down on one side, 
with the small black strip of her double-reefed mainsail 
slanting sharply above her, and a filmy white cloud 
flying at her bows. Suddenly the frothing water began 
to glitter, and on looking up he saw that the moon, which 
had grown brighter, had just emerged from behind a 
bank of flying cloud. Then Harry who sat at the helm 
called to him. 

“ Look yonder ! Just over the bowsprit end,” he cried. 

Frank, gazing where his companion told him, saw a 
bright red twinkle low down above the sea and appar- 
ently two or three miles away. 

“ A fire ! ” he exclaimed. “ On the island by the 
point, isn’t it? ” 

“ A signal,” Harry assented. “ Guess it’s to show the 


RUNNING A CARGO 


187 


schooner men the bush gang are ready.” He broke 
into a laugh which reached Frank faintly. “ They’re 
figuring we’re safe on the island out of the way. You 
couldn’t see that fire from the beach we were left upon.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“ Stand right on to where the fire is. We have to make 
a long leg on this tack, anyway. When we’re close up 
with the point we’ll consider. Get a little more head 
sheet in if you can.” 

It cost Frank an effort, though the sloop was carrying 
her smallest jib, and when he had made the rope fast 
he crouched beside his comrade in the partial shelter 
of the coaming with the dog at his feet. It was blowing 
moderately fresh, and the sloop was very wet, for the 
tide was running with her and she thrashed on at a 
great pace pitching the water all over, while the red 
twinkle ahead grew steadily higher and brighter. It 
was the only thing that Frank could see, because the 
moon had disappeared again. 

In the meanwhile he wondered what his companion 
meant to do, for he fancied that Harry had something 
in his mind. The latter was like his father in some 
respects, since he did not, as a rule, explain what his 
intentions were until he was reasonably sure that he 
could carry them out. One result of this was that while 
each seldom did less than he said he would he not infre- 
quently did a good deal more. Folks of this kind, Frank 
reflected, inspired one with confidence. 

At last, when the fire was large and bright, a head 
loomed up above it with the wavering glow falling upon 
its rocky face. On one side of the crag there was a 
strip of darkness, which Frank supposed was water, 
and a little nearer him a long shadowy patch, which 
he knew to be an island. He turned to Harry, who was 
just then glancing up at the sky. 

“ We’ll run right into the light if you stand on much 
longer,” he pointed out. 


188 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


He had hardly spoken when the red blaze sank down 
amidst an upward rush of sparks, and as it died away 
Harry laughed. 

“ That means one of two things,” he said. “ Either 
they’ve given the schooner up, or she has her anchor 
down inside and they’ve no more use for a light that 
might set folks wondering, though I don’t know that 
anybody would be likely to see it.” 

“ Anyway, you’ll go ashore if you stand on,” per- 
sisted Frank. 

“ It’s not my intention that we should stand on,” said 
Harry, glancing up again at the cloud-barred sky. “ We 
can just weather the island as she’s lying, and when that’s 
done I could put up my helm and run through the sound 
behind it. I’ll do it if the moon keeps in. If the 
schooner’s inside yonder we ought to see her.” 

Frank was rather staggered by the boldness of the 
idea. The strait seemed narrow and he fancied that it 
would be further contracted by shallows now that the 
tide was getting low, while it appeared very probable 
that if they saw the schooner her crew would see them. 
If she were landing cargo there would be boats about, 
and he did not think it would be pleasant to fall in with 
them, after the pains somebody had taken in setting 
the canoe adrift. Still, though he was very dubious 
about its wisdom, the prospect of the adventure appealed 
to him and Harry seemed to take his consent for granted. 

“ We’ll carry a fair wind through,” the latter an- 
nounced. “If it’s necessary we could lower the peak 
down and that would leave very little canvas to be seen. 
You had better shorten the canoe up while I luff. She’s 
half full and towing heavily.” 

The mainsail thrashed and the speed slackened when 
he put down his helm, and Frank, hauling with all his 
might, dragged the canoe up a little closer astern and 
made her fast with a shorter rope, after which Harry 
got way on the boat again. It seemed to Frank to be 


RUNNING A CARGO 


189 


blowing harder, and she swayed down farther, plunging 
furiously through the short seas with a white belt of 
surf which had shadowy rocks behind it to lee of her. 
The moon was still hidden, hut it was evident that they 
were very close to the end of the island. By and by 
the white line to lee suddenly vanished and they stretched 
out into the dark water, with a high, black mass not far 
ahead. 

“ We’ve got to jibe her,” said Harry. “ Get the peak 
down.” 

The deck was horribly slanted and slippery, but Frank 
made his way forward along it while the seas which 
seemed steeper there drenched him with showers of cold 
brine. He found the halliard and let it go, and scram- 
bling aft as the head of the sail swung down, helped his 
companion, who was struggling with a rope, while he 
jammed the tiller over with his shoulder. 

“ Handy ! ” cried Harry. “ You must check the boom 
as it comes over.” 

The craft was coming round with her stern to the 
wind, and as she did so the canoe came up on the top 
of a sea and struck her with a crash. Frank had, how- 
ever, no thought to spare for her. He was dragging 
at the mainsheet as the big boom tilted up into the dark- 
ness above his head, while the sloop rolled heavily. 
Then the upper part of the bagging sail swung over 
with a bang and he whipped the rope around something 
as the heavy spar followed it. The sloop rolled at the 
same time until half her deck was in the sea, the sheet 
was torn furiously through his hands, and the canoe hit 
her with another heavy thud as she swayed up again. 
Then it drove astern, and Frank had space to gather his 
breath and look about him as they swept on into smoother 
water. 

Harry was edging in toward the low black ridge of the 
island, and there was a higher mass on the opposite side 
crested with what appeared to be rows of pines, with a 


190 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


dark gap between them. They could now hear the 
surf on the weather side of the island, which told them 
that they were already behind it. Four or five minutes 
later the channel twisted, and as they swept around a 
black rock two or three lights blinked out ahead, with 
a low red blaze behind them, apparently on the opposite 
beach. 

“ There she is ; ready to clear at the shortest notice,” 
said Harry, stretching out a pointing hand. “ They’ve 
kept the boom-foresail and most of the mainsail on her, 
though I guess the anchor’s down. We’ll get the center- 
board up.” 

They were drawing nearer the lights rapidly, but it 
was two or three minutes before Frank, who heaved the 
board up into its case, could make out a black mass 
of fluttering canvas against the sky. Then Harry spoke 
again : 

“ There’s a shingle bank runs out not far ahead and 
there can’t be much water over it now the tide’s nearly 
run out. I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on the other hand 
of the schooner.” 

Frank could understand why he did not want to do 
this, since the channel was narrow and they must pass 
between the lights of the vessel and the fire upon the 
beach. It seemed to him that it would be singularly 
awkward if they met a boat coming from or going to 
the latter, which, however, was precisely what befell 
them. 

Harry ran the sloop off as far as he dared, and Frank 
was watching the schooner’s black hull rise higher when 
he made out a dim shape that moved between her and the 
beach. 

“A boat, sure!” cried Harry. “ Get the mainsheet 
in. We’ll have to take our chances of the shoal.” 

He helped Frank with one hand, but the task was 
almost beyond their strength, and while they dragged 
at the rope the half-seen boat and the schooner seemed 


RUNNING A CARGO 


191 


to be flying toward them. Then as they made the rope 
fast and the sloop headed in toward the island a pale 
gleam from a light on the vessel fell upon her. It 
seemed impossible to Frank that they should not be 
seen, but nobody hailed them, and while he listened, 
expecting every moment to hear a shout, a clatter of 
blocks broke through the splash of approaching oars. 
Even behind the island, the water was rather broken 
and the men seemed to be pulling hard. 

A moment later the light faded off the sloop, though 
Frank could see the schooner comparatively plainly. 
Her tall, shadowy canvas was fluttering athwart the 
light, and beneath it a cluster of indistinct figures rose 
and fell as they heaved up something with a tackle. 
He could hear their voices clearly, and he was glad to 
remember that the dusky ridge of the island rose behind 
the sloop, though he wished his companion would run 
closer in with it. He had seen all he wanted and only 
desired to get away as soon as possible. 

It became evident by and by that Harry had run in 
closer than was advisable, for there was a crash and 
the sloop suddenly stopped. Almost immediately after- 
ward she lay over with her boom and most of her deck 
on one side in the water, while the tide, twisting her 
bows around, threatened to pour into her over the de- 
pressed coaming. As she had come up nearly head to 
wind, her mainsail thrashed furiously, jerking the boom 
up out of the sea every now and then and letting it 
splash in again, while the flapping jib seemed likely to 
snap off the head of her rattling mast. Loose ropes 
appeared to be flying everywhere and Frank clung stu- 
pidly to the coaming, uncertain what to do. They were 
aground unfortunately close to the schooner, and, he 
feared, within sight of the men on board her. Harry’s 
voice, however, roused him to make an effort. 

“Jump forward with the big oar! We must get her 
off,” he said. “ The tide’s still falling.” 


192 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Frank trod upon and fell over the dog, who fortunately 
was unable to see anything over the coaming. He 
scarcely heard it yelping as he scrambled along the 
steeply slanted deck dragging the heavy oar. They got 
it over and thrust upon it in desperate haste in an attempt 
to cant her bow off, but as the tide swung her farther 
around her side came up against the oar, threatening to 
break it or pitch the boys over the rail, and for a while 
they strained every muscle in vain. Then she suddenly 
swung back in the midst of a furious swirl, and Frank 
fell down on something that seemed unpleasantly hard. 
Harry, flinging the oar upon the deck, dropped close 
by, feeling for a rope. 

“ Get up and get hold! ” he cried breathlessly. “ We 
must box her round with the jib. You can lie down 
afterward.” 

Frank scrambled up and pulled in a frenzy, and the 
boat swung farther around. Then the mainsail ceased 
fluttering, and jumping aft they fell into the well, where 
Frank fancied that he trod upon the dog again. Harry 
immediately seized the tiller, thrusting it to weather, 
and the sloop commenced to move slowly through the 
water, though there was a harsh grinding beneath her. 
By and by she suddenly shot forward again. 

“ She’s off ! ” exclaimed Harry. “ Give her sheet ! ” 

Frank let the mainsheet run and afterward leaned 
breathlessly upon the coaming with a thrill of relief as 
they drove out into the deeper water; but it appeared 
that his companion was not satisfied yet. 

“ She should run over to the opposite side without 
bringing the boom across,” he said. “ There seems to 
be a big rock yonder and we could heave her to in the 
gloom of it. If I remember, it’s good water.” 

“What for?” asked Frank, who was anxious to get 
out of the channel. 

“Well,” said Harry, “we’ve seen the schooner, a 
boat, and a fire upon the beach, but, after all, that’s not 


RUNNING A CARGO 


193 


a great deal to go upon. We want to make sure what 
she’s putting ashore.” 

The boom lifted ominously as he ran her off and 
Frank fancied that somebody would certainly hear the 
crash if he jibed it over. She stretched across, how- 
ever, and, rounding her up close beneath a dark rock, 
they hauled the jib to windward and waited. Though 
they were in deep shadow, a stream of flickering radiance 
fell upon the water not far away and lighted up a narrow 
strip of beach. A few minutes passed and then Harry 
touched his companion, who saw several men cross the 
shingle with loads upon their shoulders. Their figures 
showed black against the light, and Frank fancied that 
they were carrying square wooden cases. After them 
came several more figures, but these carried nothing and 
were dressed differently. They looked like Chinamen 
and they had evidently just got out of an unseen boat. 

“ Now,” said Harry, “ I guess that will do. If you’ll 
trim the jib over I’ll get way on her.” 

Frank was glad to do it. He felt that he had seen 
quite enough and it would be wiser to get away before 
any misadventure befell them. They ran out of the 
channel and were thrashing close-hauled into a rather 
steep head sea when Harry spoke again. 

“ There were four cases in the last lot, and another 
boat went ashore,” he observed. “ It looks as if they 
would swamp the market. Dope’s dear, and a little of 
it goes a mighty long way.” 

“ Perhaps there was something else in some of the 
cases,” suggested Frank. 

“ It’s possible, though from the little I know of the 
tariff I haven’t an idea of what it could be. Anyway, 
that’s a proposition we can leave to Barclay. They 
were certainly Chinamen and passengers who landed.” 

“How do you know they were passengers?” Frank 
inquired. 

Harry laughed. “ If they’d been anything else they’d 


194 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


have had to carry those boxes. As a general thing, an 
American doesn’t work while a Chinaman watches him.” 

Nothing more was said, and half an hour later when 
pale moonlight once more streamed down upon the water 
the schooner swept out of the gloom astern of them. 
After that they went about and clung to the shadow 
along the land until they lost sight of her shortly before 
they ran into the cove. 

It was very late when they reached the ranch, but 
they merely informed Miss Oliver that they had had 
some trouble through the canoe going adrift and had 
been compelled to beat back against a strong head wind. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE CACHE 

M R. OLIVER came home soon after the boys* visit 
to the island, and when he had heard Harry’s nar- 
ration of their adventures he made him tell it over again 
in the presence of Mr. Barclay, whom he had brought 
back with him. They were sitting in the log-walled 
kitchen in the evening with their chairs drawn up about 
the stove, and Mr. Barclay, holding his pipe in his hand, 
listened gravely. 

“ Well,” he said, when Harry had finished, “ you seem 
to be considerably more fortunate in these matters than 
I am. You have seen the schooner several times, and 
other interesting things, while I haven’t even had a 
glimpse of the man with the high shoulder yet. I sup- 
pose I’ll have to admit at last that I’ve been upon his 
trail for some time and have made some progress.” 

“ You might as well have admitted it in the begin- 
ning,” retorted Harry. “ Some folks progress slow.” 

Mr. Barclay’s eyes twinkled. “ As a rule, it’s difficult 
to hustle the Government of the United States, and I’m 
inclined to think the same thing applies to that of other 
countries. However, as I said, we have got ahead a 
little at the other end. For example, we have a tolerably 
accurate notion where the dope goes.” 

“ Then why don’t you corral everybody who has any- 
thing to do with it?” 

Mr. Barclay’s gesture seemed to beg the boy’s for- 
bearance. 

“ It’s a sensible question. For one thing, strictly 
speaking, it’s not my particular business, which is really 
195 


196 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


to sit in an office and dictate instructions most of the 
time. To some extent, these jaunts I’ve had with your 
father have been undertaken by way of innocent relax- 
ation, although they may prove useful in case certain 
gentlemen send me along a list of peremptory questions 
on which they want reports. They do things of that 
kind now and then.” 

“ I didn’t think it was your business to take a smuggler 
by the neck and haul him along to the sheriff,” said 
Harry with a reproachful air. “ Still, you could call 
out your subordinates and send them off to round up the 
dope crowd, couldn’t you? There must be some official 
machinery for doing that kind of thing.” 

“ There is,” assented Mr. Barclay, refilling his pipe. 
“ The trouble is that it makes a certain amount of com- 
motion, and when silence is important you have to be 
careful how you set it to work. As a rule, it’s wiser 
to have everything ready first. The most careful plans 
fail sometimes if your assistants are more keen than 
judicious. That” — and he smiled at the boys — “is 
why I was dubious about taking you into my confidence 
before.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Harry with ironical courtesy. 
“Do you mind making what you mean to do a little 
plainer ? ” 

“ I’ll try. In the first place, smuggling doesn’t seem 
to be considered a crime unless you’re caught at it. In 
fact, a Government of any kind is generally looked upon 
as fair game, and few people think much the worse of 
a man who succeeds in doing it out of part of its revenue. 
How far that idea’s right or wrong doesn’t concern me. 
What I must do is to prevent it from being acted on too 
often, and, taking the notion for granted ; we don’t want 
to put the laugh upon ourselves if it can be avoided.” 

Harry made a sign of comprehension. “ Still, if you 
sent your people down here they should be able to corral 
part of the gang.” 


THE CACHE 


197 . 


“ I agree with you/’ Barclay answered dryly. “It’s 
possible, anyway — but what would the result be ? Three 
or four persons of no importance might be seized, the 
rest would get away with a warning, and our plans would 
all be sprung.” Then the stout, good-humored man 
seemed to change, for his expression suddenly hardened 
and a look which the boys had never noticed there before 
crept into his eyes. “ No, sir. We want them all, and 
when we move we expect to gather in the whole rascally 
combination.” 

‘‘How can we butt in?” 

“ With your father’s permission, you might, in the first 
place, invite me to an evening’s flight shooting.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be better to go across the island in the 
daytime with the dog and Jake and a couple of spades? ” 

“ No,” replied Mr. Barclay. “ If my opinion’s of any 
value, I don’t thing it would be wise. Besides, I under- 
stand that the best time for getting a shot at flighting 
ducks is in the twilight.” 

Miss Oliver laughed softly. “Enterprise is a good 
thing, and so is self-confidence,” she broke in. “ On the 
other hand, I fancy that one can have too much of them, 
and a headstrong impatience is one of the faults of the 
young West.” 

Mr. Oliver looked at Harry, who grew a trifle red. 

“ There’s truth in that,” he remarked. “ On the whole 
it might be better to leave all arrangements to the man 
in charge and just do what he suggests.” 

“ Sure,” assented Harry, and as he offered no more 
suggestions the matter was decided with a few more 
words. 

Late in the next afternoon the boys set out with Mr. 
Barclay in the sloop, and as what wind there was blew 
off the land they crept along close in with the beach, 
which was high and rocky and shrouded with thick tim- 
ber. When they drew abreast of the island the tide 
was higher than it had been on the last occasion, but 


198 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Mr. Barclay said that they had better leave the sloop in 
the little bay in front of them and cross the channel 
in the canoe. He was a heavy man, and when he cau- 
tiously dropped into the craft her stern sank ominously 
near the water. 

“ You’ll have to get farther forward and sit quite 
still,” said Harry in a tone of authority, but with an 
amused look. 

He took his place astern with Frank, who picked up 
the other paddle, in the bow, and a stroke or two drove 
them out into the rippling tide. It was growing dark, 
though the sky overhead was softly blue and there was 
a glimmer of pale saffron around part of the horizon. 
To the eastward the moon was just appearing above a 
bank of cloud. The wind, which had freshened, blew 
very cold, and Frank shivered until the paddling warmed 
him and he found that he could spare no thought for 
anything else. The tide was running over the shallows 
with a ripple that splashed perilously high about the 
side of the deeply loaded canoe, and now and then 
whirling eddies drove them off their course. Once, too, 
they ran aground, and Harry had to get in knee-deep to 
shove the craft off, while when they approached the end 
of the island they had to struggle hard for several min- 
utes against the stream which broke into little frothing 
waves, during which the canoe got very wet. They 
came through, however, and reaching smoother water 
ran the canoe in and pulled her out, after which Frank 
was about to walk off up the beach when Harry stopped 
him. 

“ One learns by experience, and I don’t feel like swim- 
ming,” he observed. “ We’ll carry her right up and 
hide her in the bushes.” 

They did so with some difficulty and Harry afterward 
waited until Mr. Barclay spoke. 

“We came out shooting,” said the latter. “ I don’t 
see any reason why we shouldn’t get a duck.” 


THE CACHE 


199 


He turned to Harry, as if to ascertain whether he 
objected to this, but the boy laughed. 

“If you don’t know of any, I needn’t bother about 
the thing,” he answered. “ There’s a moderate breeze 
right off the beach and the guns couldn’t be heard far 
to windward.” 

“ I’m not sure I’d mind them being heard if anybody 
chanced to be about. It might save the inquisitive 
stranger from wondering what we were doing here, and 
the excuse strikes me as a nicer one than going swim- 
ming late at night in front of a Siwash rancherie.” 

Harry chuckled. “ Wait until you fall over your boot 
tops into a pool, or follow a crippled duck through the 
water.” 

“ I shall endeavor to avoid the first thing,” said Mr. 
Barclay. “ There’s a remedy for the other, so long as 
I’ve two assistants.” 

They went back to the beach and waited there some 
time until Frank heard a regular beat of wings, and a 
drawn-out wedge of dusky bodies appeared above the 
trees dotted upon the sky. He was farthest from them 
and he watched Mr. Barclay, who had brought a gun 
with him, standing, an indistinct, half-seen figure thirty 
or forty yards away. At last the man threw up his 
arms, there was a quick yellow flash, a crash, and then a 
second streak of flame leaping from the smoke. After 
that there followed two distinct and unmistakable thuds, 
and Frank pitched up his gun as Harry fired. He heard 
two jarring reports and running forward saw Mr. Bar- 
clay pick up a bird that had fallen almost at his feet. 

“ There’s another over yonder,” the latter remarked. 

Harry found it in a minute or two and handed it to 
him. 

“ One with each barrel ! ” he said, and added with a 
rue Ml laugh, “ I don’t see any more about.” 

“Then I think we’ll take a look around the island,” 
Mr. Barclay answered. 


200 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


He left the beach with the boys, but they dropped be- 
hind him and let him take the lead when they reached 
the scrubby firs which were scattered more or less thickly 
about the rocky ground. Frank fancied that Harry had 
some reason for doing this and the supposition was con- 
finned when Mr. Barclay stopped a moment beside a 
brake of withered fern and then, after stooping dowrn, 
carefully skirted it as he went on again. The sky was 
clear, and though the moon was in its first quarter it 
shed a faint elusive light. 

“ That man can shoot, and it looks as if he was quite 
as smart at picking up a trail/’ said Harry in a low 
tone. “ Anyway, if I’d been looking for a stranger’s 
tracks I’d have tried yonder fern and I’d have been as 
particular not to smash any of it down as he was. I’ve 
an idea he must have chuckled sometimes when I got 
guying him.” He paused and added thoughtfully, “ It’s 
the kind of fool thing you’re apt to do unless you’re 
careful.” 

After this they spent a considerable time wandering 
up and down a portion of the island, though Frank 
fancied that Mr. Barclay, who asked Harry a question 
now and then, had some purpose that guided him. The 
moonlight was too dim and the shadows among the 
trees too dense for him to follow a trail steadily, but 
he seemed to be prospecting for likely places where foot- 
prints or broken-down undergrowth might be found. At 
length they reached a little stony hollow, with a rock 
that rose some six or seven feet on one side and dark 
firs clustering close about it. Here Mr. Barclay stopped 
and looked about him before he turned to Harry. 

“ Now,” he said, “ this is a spot that could be easily 
described and located by anybody who happened to be 
told about it. That rock would make a first-class mark. 
If you had anything to bury for somebody else to dig up, 
where would you put it ? ” 

Harry walked about the place, stepping carefully upon 


THE CACHE 


201 


the stones and avoiding the scattered underbrush, until 
he reached a clump of withered fern. 

“ Right here,” he replied, and kneeling down pulled 
some of the yellow fronds about. Then he looked up 
sharply. “ This stuff’s very dead and it’s lying flat,” 
he exclaimed. “ Farther on the stems aren’t broken 
and some of them don’t seem quite dried up yet.” 

Frank acknowledged that these were things he would 
not have noticed, but Mr. Barclay nodded. 

“ Somebody else may have fixed on the same spot 
as you have done,” he said. “ It’s possible, though I 
don’t think it’s more than that. There might be half 
a dozen similar places on the island, but if you’ll handle 
the fern carefully it wouldn’t do any harm to make a 
hole.” 

They had brought a light spade with them, and after 
Harry had cleared the ground Frank set to work with 
it. He had taken out only a few shovelfuls of soil ond 
shingle when he gave a cry of surprise as he struck 
something that seemed more solid. 

Harry and Mr. Barclay stooped down beside him. The 
latter struck a match and lighted a piece of paper he 
took from his pocket, and before it went out Frank had 
cleared the soil away from the top of a small wooden 
case. 

“ It’s rather more than I could have reasonably ex- 
pected,” said Mr. Barclay, “ but when you haven’t much 
to act upon it’s wise to make the most of what you’ve 
got and leave the rest to chance. Now you may as well 
shovel that dirt back.” 

“Aren’t you going to take the thing out?” Frank 
asked in astonishment. 

“ No,” replied Mr. Barclay, “ I don’t think it’s neces- 
sary. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen opium and 
we don’t want to leave too plain a trail behind us. As 
we have spent some time on the island already, hadn’t 
you better get to work ? ” 


202 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


Frank flung back the soil and when he had finished 
Harry replaced the loose fern which he had carefully laid 
aside. He did not, however, seem satisfied with the way 
he had arranged it and when he looked up at Mr. Barclay 
his manner was diffident. 

“ I’m afraid I can’t do any better in the dark,” he 
said. 

“ It will probably be dark when the next man comes 
along,” Mr. Barclay answered. “ Anyway, the first 
breeze of wind or heavy rain will straighten things up. 
In the meanwhile we’ll get back to the sloop.” 

They turned away, but they had scarcely gone a hun- 
dred yards when Mr. Barclay put his hand into his pocket 
and stopped. 

“ I’ve dropped my pipe,” he said. “ It was rather a 
good one.” 

“Then I know where it is,” Frank broke in. “You 
must have pulled it out with the paper. I heard some- 
thing fall, but I was too interested- to bother about it. 
If you’ll wait, I’ll go back and get it.” 

The others sat down when he left them, but he spent 
some minutes scrambling about near the fern before the 
faint gleam of a silver band upon the pipe caught his 
eye. Picking it up he turned back to rejoin his com- 
panions, and a few moments later he reached an opening 
between the firs by which they had left the hollow. The 
trees rose in black and shadowy masses on either side, 
but their ragged tops cut sharply against the sky, and 
a faint, uncertain light shone down into the gap between 
them. Soon after he strode into it Frank stopped ab- 
ruptly, for there was a crackle of dry twigs and a soft 
rustle somewhere in front of him, and he could think 
of no reason why Harry or Mr. Barclay should come 
back. If they had wanted him to do anything they 
could have called him. 

He felt his nerves tingle as he stood and listened. The 
sound had ceased and he could only hear the wind among 


THE CACHE 


203 


the firs whose tops rustled eerily. But presently the 
unmistakable fall of a heavy foot came out of the 
shadows. Then he shrank back instinctively a pace or 
two into deeper gloom, for there was no doubt that some- 
body was approaching, and while he waited a black figure 
appeared in the opening not far in front of him. The 
faint light was behind the man and he showed up against 
it dim and indistinct, but Frank realized that he was not 
Mr. Barclay. He looked taller and less heavily built. 
Then the boy dropped noiselessly and held his breath, 
for a brittle branch had cracked under him. The 
stranger stopped and seemed to be gazing about him. 

He moved on again, however, and Frank turned his 
face toward the ground, fearing that it might show white 
in the gloom, but it was only by a determined effort that 
he held himself still and mastered the desire to crawl 
back farther into the shadow. He knew that if he 
yielded to it he would be on his feet in another moment 
and might break away into the bush or do something 
else which he would afterward regret. He realized that 
Mr. Barclay and Harry must have seen the stranger and 
had for some reason kept out of sight and let him go by. 

In the meanwhile the man was drawing nearer and 
Frank made out that he was carrying something. It 
seemed almost impossible that he could pass without 
seeing the boy, and the effort it cost the latter to lie still 
became more arduous. It would have been an unspeak- 
able relief even to spring up and face the stranger with 
empty hands. Then he drew level, and once more Frank 
set his lips as he listened to the footsteps. At every 
moment he expected them suddenly to stop. They con- 
tinued, however, and although, since he dared not turn, 
he could not see the man now, it was clear that he had 
passed. 

Frank waited a minute or two longer and then rose 
softly with a gasp of fervent relief. He was annoyed 
to feel that he was still quivering with the tension and 


204 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


he stood still a few moments to regain his composure 
before he went quietly back toward his companions. As 
he neared the spot where he had left them Mr. Barclay 
stepped out from behind a tree. 

“ You met that man?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Frank, “that is, I saw him coming and 
kept out of the way. He walked close by me and I 
think he was carrying a spade.” 

“ He was,” Mr. Barclay assented. “ I was afraid he 
might surprise you, but we couldn’t shout and warn 
you without alarming him, which I didn’t want to do for 
one or two reasons. We’ll wait here until he’s through 
with the business that brought him.” 

He drew Frank farther back among the trees and soon 
after they sat down a faint rustling followed by a clatter 
of stones reached them from the hollow. There was no 
doubt that the man was digging up the case. Harry, 
who was lying near Frank’s feet, moved restlessly and 
at length he rose. 

“ That fellow’s certainly one of the gang,” he said. 
“ I don’t see why we shouldn’t get him. Frank and I 
could work around behind the hollow and head him off 
while you walk in.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Barclay dryly, “what would fol- 
low ? ” 

“ You could have him sent up.” 

“ I daresay I could. What would be the use of it?” 

“ You’d have got one of them, anyway.” 

“ Sure,” said Mr. Barclay, “ and I’d have scared off 
all the rest. I suppose I must be greedy, but I wouldn’t 
be content with one bush chopper who probably only 
takes a hand in now and then. As I believe I told you, 
I’m after the whole gang.” 

Harry said nothing further for a while, and then he 
stopped and listened. 

“ He’s coming back,” he whispered. 

The sound of footsteps came out of the shadow, and 


THE CACHE 


205 


presently Frank saw a dusky figure pass among the trees 
carrying something upon its shoulder besides the spade. 
They waited until there was silence again and then moved 
quietly back to the beach, from which they saw a canoe 
cross the channel. Half an hour later they paddled 
across and duly reached the sloop. 

“ If that man had known she was here he would 
probably not have gone,” Mr. Barclay observed. “ As 
he didn’t see her when there was a little light left, it’s 
reasonable to suppose he couldn’t have noticed her com- 
ing back in the dark, and on the whole I’m satisfied with 
the result of the trip. But it might be better if you 
went somewhere else for your flight shooting after this.” 

Then they set the mainsail and started back for the 
cove, keeping close in along the beach. 


CHAPTER XX 


mr. Webster’s slashing 

A MONTH passed, which the boys spent quietly 
in grubbing up stumps and chopping. Then Mr. 
Oliver suggested that they go over to Mr. Webster’s 
ranch and burn off his slashing, as he had promised its 
absent owner to send them. He added that they could 
camp there for the night and get a little hunting when 
they had done the work. There was a nipping air when 
they started early in the morning, each with a packet of 
provisions and a blanket upon his shoulder, and the 
newly turned clods in the clearing were iron-hard. The 
Pacific Slope is warmer in winter than the Atlantic 
coast, but there are times when the cold snaps are sharp 
enough in its northern part, and the boys were glad to 
plunge into the shelter of the woods where the frost 
was less stinging. 

They reached the ranch without much trouble, and 
when they stopped at the slip rails Frank, who had not 
been there before, looked about him. The bush clear- 
ings are much alike, but this one was smaller than Mr. 
Oliver’s. A little, very rudely built log house stood at 
one end with thick timber creeping close up behind it. 
There was also an unusual quantity of underbrush among 
the stumps near the door, which Frank had occasion to 
notice more particularly later. In the meanwhile it 
struck him that the place had an uncared-for look and 
Harry seemed to share his opinion. 

“ Webster’s a very ordinary rancher,” he remarked. 
“ He can’t stay with a thing and finish it. When he’s 
about halfway through he lets up and starts something 
306 


MR. WEBSTER’S SLASHING 


207 


else. Any other man would have grubbed out all that 
withered stuff about the house and chopped back the 
bush behind it. It’s not safe to have big trees growing 
so close.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Frank. 

“ Because of the fires. They come along every now 
and then. It’s lucky there’s no wind to speak of, be- 
cause I wouldn’t put a light to this slashing if there 
was.” 

Frank glanced at the belt of fallen timber behind 
the fence on one side of the clearing. It had been 
badly cut and some of the trees lay across each other, 
while only a few of the branches had been sawed off 
and the undergrowth had not been mowed. If the fall 
had not been a dry one it would have been difficult to 
burn the slashing. Then he glanced up at the leaden- 
gray sky above the pine tops and fancied that it looked 
threatening. The dense wall of somber sprays seemed 
unusually harsh of aspect, and there was something 
curious about the light. Everything was gray and raw- 
edged, and he shivered, for the faint wind had blown 
across a wilderness of snowy mountains. 

“ It’s not the kind of day for hanging round,” he 
said. “ Let’s get to work.” 

Entering the house they found a can of coal oil and 
plenty of rags, for a heap of worn-out clothing lay in 
a corner. 

“ They’ll hold oil and that’s about all they’re good 
for,” Harry remarked. “ I expect it’s months since 
Webster pitched them there with the idea that he might 
mend them sometime.” 

Frank carried out one or two of the duck garments, 
and when they had torn them up and soaked them in 
coal oil he and Harry set about lighting fires here and 
there in the slashing, after which they stood near the 
door of the house and watched the conflagration. The 
fires spread rapidly, and one side of the clearing was 


208 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


soon wrapped in crackling flame that worked backward 
from the neighborhood of the fence, licking up branches 
and undergrowth as it neared the bush. That did not 
stop it, for the fire had flung out advance guards which 
leaped forward swiftly through the withered fern and 
hurled themselves in crimson waves upon the standing 
trunks. They seemed to splash upon them, flinging up 
fountains of blazing brands and sparks that seized upon 
the lower sprays and sprang aloft until each assaulted 
tree was wrapped in fire from base to summit. The 
conflagration made the draught it needed, and by and 
by it roared in what seemed to Frank malicious triumph 
as it pressed onward into the forest under a cloud of 
rolling smoke. Where it would stop he did not know, 
but he was almost uncomfortably impressed by the spec- 
tacle. 

“ It’s a full-power burn,” said Harry approvingly. 
“ Guess it’s going to clean up this slashing. And now 
we’ll look around and see if Webster’s left anything 
we can make our dinner in.” 

There was a stove in the house, but they soon dis- 
covered that it did not burn well, and Harry glanced 
disgustedly at the spider Frank discovered. 

“ A hole in the bottom of it ! ” he said contemptuously. 
“ That’s the kind of thing Webster uses. I’ll be aston- 
ished if you don’t find another hole in the kettle. You 
had better go along to the well and fill it.” 

In a few minutes Frank came back with the kettle, 
which fortunately did not leak, and Harry set it on the 
stove and laid a piece of pork in the spider, which he 
tilted on one side. 

“ It’s going to be about an hour before that kettle 
boils, and, though I feel like doing it, there’s no use in 
straightening up this shack in the meanwhile because 
the man would muss it up again as soon as he comes 
back. There’s a slough beyond the rise yonder, and as 


MR. WEBSTER’S SLASHING 


209 


it lies to windward we might get a shot at something. 
We could be back before dinner’s ready.” 

Frank would have preferred to stay where he was, 
as he had already done a good morning’s work. He 
assented, however, and accompanied Harry up a steep 
and very rough slope and down the opposite side of it. 
When they reached the bottom they plunged into a waste 
of tall grass and half-decayed vegetation among the roots 
of which the frost had not penetrated. As the result 
of this they sank to the knees here and there, and Frank 
more than once fell down. He soon had enough of it, 
but he was beginning to realize that there was very little 
worth doing in the bush which could be accomplished, 
so to speak, with one’s gloves on. The small rancher 
and hunter must expect to get wet and ragged, as well 
as weary and dirty, and must face the unpleasantness 
cheerfully and mend his clothes afterward. The only 
other course was to stay in the cities. 

Presently Harry discovered the tracks of a deer lead- 
ing out of the valley and pointed them out to his com- 
panion. 

“ You won’t mind waiting for your dinner? ” he asked. 

“ No — not very much,” Frank answered dubiously. 

This satisfied Harry, who led the way up the hillside, 
and it seemed to Frank that they scrambled over fallen 
logs and branches and through thick undergrowth for the 
greater part of an hour before they crept carefully down 
again to another hollow. Though they floundered all 
around it there was no sign of the deer, and Frank was 
relieved when his companion intimated that they might 
as well go back to the ranch. Dinner was the first 
thought in both their minds when they reached it, but 
it struck Frank that the fire had become a tremendous 
conflagration and he noticed that a dense cloud of smoke 
was blowing across the clearing. 

“ It’s a real fierce burn and there’s more wind than 


210 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


there was, but we’ll get a meal before we look around/’ 
Harry remarked. 

There were, however, one or two difficulties in the 
way of their doing this. The kettle had boiled nearly 
dry, and the pork had disappeared through the burned- 
out bottom of the spider. Harry said that he could 
manage to fry another piece on the rim of it if Frank 
would refill the kettle, and eventually they sat down to 
dinner and spent a long while over it. Then Harry got 
up reluctantly. 

“ I guess we had better see what the fire’s doing,” he 
observed. 

Frank was almost appalled when he reached the doorway. 
The whole clearing was thick with smoke, out of which 
there shot up a furious wall of fire that rose and fell 
with a crackle resembling volleys of riflery and a roaring 
even more disconcerting. What was worse, it seemed 
to be creeping into the thick bush behind the house, and 
Harry, running a few paces toward the corner of the 
building, stopped aghast with the red light flickering on 
his dismayed face. 

“ Dad promised he’d get Webster’s slashing burned, 
but it wasn’t in the contract that we’d burn off his house,” 
he said. “ We’ll have to hustle. See if there’s an ax 
and grubhoe in that woodshed.” 

Frank found the tools, and while he attacked the 
larger bushes near the back of the house, Harry began 
to cut down the undergrowth in front of it. By and 
by Frank came back and they dragged the brush away 
toward the clearing where it could burn harmlessly, 
but the smoke grew more blinding and every now and 
then a shower of sparks fell about the boys. Fires 
sprang up among the underbrush, and falling upon them 
with the ax and spade they savagely thrashed them out. 
Frank burned his hands in doing so, but there was no 
time to trouble about that and he toiled on, coughing 


MR. WEBSTER'S SLASHING 


211 


and choking, until at last they were forced to stop for 
breath. 

They stood close in front of the house, with a mass 
of withered fern and half-burned brush smoldering in 
front of them, while a sheet of fire rose and fell amidst 
dense clouds of smoke behind the building. The day- 
light appeared to be dying out, but Frank could not be 
sure of that, because it was almost dark one moment 
as the smoke rolled about them and the next they stood 
dazzled by a flood of radiance. 

“We have done ’most all we can,” said Harry wearily. 
“ It was the wind getting up that made the trouble — I 
should have noticed it — but if it stands for the next half 
hour we ought to save the house. The fire’s eating 
back into the bush all the while.” 

“ Should we get any of the things out? ” Frank asked. 

“ I’m not smart at handling hot stoves, and there’s 
mighty little else in the place,” Harry answered with a 
laugh. “ I wouldn’t bid a dollar for Webster’s pans 
and crockery, and he made the table and the two chairs. 
Still, I don’t know any reason why we shouldn’t sling 
them out.” 

Just then the smoke rolled down about the boys in 
a blinding cloud ; there was a great snapping and crack- 
ling, and a shower of blazing fragments drove them back 
thirty or forty yards across the clearing. Presently the 
smoke thinned, and a row of stripped trunks behind 
the house was outlined against a tremendous sheet of 
flame. Frank took off his hat and shook a few red 
embers from the crown of it. 

“ When we were getting those rags I noticed a keg 
behind them,” he said. 

“ A keg ? ” said Harry sharply. 

“ A little keg. It looked thick and strongly made.” 

The red light struck full upon Harry’s face, and Frank 
saw that consternation was stamped upon it. 


212 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ Then,” he said, “ it’s full of coarse, tree-splitting 
(powder. Some of the ranchers use it for blowing out 
stumps. Did you notice whether it had been opened ? ” 

“The head seemed loose and one of the hoops had 
been started.” 

“ Sure ! ” said Harry with dismay in his voice. Then 
he broke out in quick anger : “ It’s just the kind of thing 
Webster would leave lying around near his stove, with- 
out taking the trouble to head it up again. He’ll have 
some detonators lying loose, too — I’ve heard he uses 
giant powder. We’ve got to bring them out.” 

They looked at each other with set faces while the 
sparks whirled about the house, and both were conscious 
of an almost uncontrollable impulse to vacate the clear- 
ing with the greatest possible speed. It was to their 
credit that they mastered it, and in a moment or two 
Harry spoke again: 

“The sparks shouldn’t get at the keg if we put a 
jacket over it, and one of us could carry all the detonators 
Webster’s likely to have in his pocket.” 

Frank had heard that the big copper caps which are 
used to fire giant powder will contain a tremendously 
powerful fulminate, and he was conscious of a very 
natural reluctance to carry a number of them about his 
person through the showers of fiery particles that fell 
about the building. Indeed, he afterward confessed that 
if Harry had not been with him nothing would have in- 
duced him to approach it. How he screwed up his 
courage he did not know, but as the flame leaped up again 
the sight of a strip of blazing fence had its effect. The 
rest of it had been destroyed, and he felt they must make 
an effort to save the house. 

“ It wouldn’t take us long to get the powder out,” he 
said with a note of uncertainty in his voice. 

Harry sprang forward and Frank was glad that he 
did so. He realized that this was not a matter for calm 
discussion, and vigorous action was a relief. Another 


MR. WEBSTER’S SLASHING 


213 


cloud of smoke met them as they drew near the house, 
and the sparks that came flying out of it fell thick about 
them. The heat scorched their faces and they gasped in 
the acrid vapor, while Frank’s eyes were smarting intol- 
erably when he staggered into the building. There was, 
however, less smoke inside it, and a fierce light beat in 
through one window. Flinging the old clothes about 
they came upon the keg and found that the head was 
lying loose. Working in desperate haste they forced the 
top hoop upward and Harry wrapped a woolen garment 
over the top of the keg. After that he flung everything 
in a lidless wooden case out upon the floor and pounced 
upon a little box that fell among the rest. 

“ Detonators ! ” he shouted. “ What’s in the packet 
near you ? ” 

Frank tore the paper savagely. “It looks like thick 
black cord.” 

“ Fuse,” said Harry. “ It’s harmless. I don’t see any 
giant powder. Hold on. I’ll look around his sleeping 
room.” 

He vanished through an inner door and Frank soon 
heard him throwing things about. The suspense of the 
next few moments was almost unbearable. A pulsating 
radiance alternately lighted up the room and grew dim 
again, and the roar and crackle of the fire set his nerves 
tingling. Then Harry ran back toward him. 

“ I can’t find any giant powder,” he reported, and 
added, “ get hold of the keg. We’ll carry it between us.” 

Frank set his lips as they sprang out of the door with 
it. The keg was not remarkably heavy, but it was an 
awkward shape and too big for either of them to carry 
on his shoulder or beneath his arm. Indeed, Frank felt 
his hands slipping from its rounded end and he was hor- 
ribly afraid of dropping it among the patches of smolder- 
ing undergrowth and glowing fragments which lay all 
about him. A few moments later thick smoke whirled 
about him, and he hardly breathed as he struggled 


214 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


through it until it blew away again. Then, to his relief, 
he saw that the house was some distance behind them 
and they were clear of the worst of the sparks. They 
went on, however, to the opposite side of the clearing, 
where they deposited the powder, and then dropped 
the detonators a little farther on, after which Harry sat 
down on the frozen ground panting heavily. 

“ It’s done and I want to get my breath,” he said. 
“ The next time I burn a slashing I’ll see there’s no 
powder about the place before I begin.” 

Frank made no answer. He was glad to sit still and 
recover, for the strain had told on him. Indeed, he 
was almost sorry when his companion stood up again. 

“ Perhaps we had better get back and pitch some water 
on the roof,” he suggested. “ I was too busy to think 
of that before.” 

The wind seemed to be dropping and the sparks were 
not quite so bad when they reached the house. They 
found a bucket, and after smashing more of the ice 
upon the shallow well Frank climbed up on the wood- 
shed which reached to the low roof. The latter was 
covered with cedar shingles and he wondered why it 
had not ignited, because the sparks were still dropping 
upon it and there were several charred spots. This, 
however, was not a question of much consequence, and 
Harry kept him busy during the next half hour sluicing 
the roof with water which he passed up in the bucket. 
Some of it went over Frank’s hands and clothing and 
it was icy cold, but they worked on steadily while the 
fire worked back farther from them into the bush. It 
had burned most fiercely when it had the dry branches 
in the slashing to supply it, but these were all licked up, 
and though the small stuff blazed the great standing 
trunks would not burn. There were already rows of 
them rising, charred and blackened columns, behind the 
slashing. 

At last Harry called Frank down from the roof. 



HE WAS HORRIBLY AFRAID OF DROPPING IT AMONG THE GLOWING 

fragments”- — Page 214 



ME. WEBSTER’S SLASHING 


215 


“ You can let up,” he said. “ It’s hardly likely we’ll 
have any more trouble. There’s a lamp and some canned 
stuff in the shack, and as we’ll have to camp here I’ll 
make some coffee. It’s quite dark now.” 

Frank concluded that it had been dark some time, 
though he had not noticed when dusk crept down. He 
was glad to find the stove still burning when he entered 
the house, very wet, and aching in every limb. The 
kettle was soon boiling, and, as there was no bottom 
in the spider, Harry, who had found a bag of flour and 
a can of syrup, contrived to make some flapjacks and 
what he called biscuit on the top of the stove. He said 
that this would be no drawback because Mr. Webster 
never blacked the thing, and Frank found no fault with 
the cakes when they ate them hot with syrup. 

Then they filled up the stove with the full draught 
on and lounged contentedly beside it while their clothing 
dried on them. They had had a heavy day, but now 
that the danger was over they were no more than com- 
fortably weary and the thrill of the last stirring hours 
remained with them. Frank felt that they had done 
something worth while that afternoon. 

When he diffidently pointed it out Harry laughed. 

“Sure!” he agreed. “Still, it’s quite likely that 
Webster will get jumping mad when he sees his fence, 
though it won’t take him many days to split enough 
rails for a new one.” 

A little later Frank walked across the room and opened 
the door. The undergrowth on one side of the clearing 
gleamed white with frost. On the other side a few big 
branches still snapped and glowed, and there was a red 
glare behind the black rows of trunks, but it was now 
broken by patches of darkness and he could see that 
the fire was rapidly dying out. He came back with a 
shiver and sat down in his warm seat beside the stove. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 

T HERE was a sprinkle of snow upon the ground, 
and the boys were working in Mr. Oliver’s slash- 
ing one afternoon a week after their visit to Mr. Web- 
ster’s ranch when Harry, who had just hauled up a log, 
stopped his oxen and addressed his father. 

“ It looks as if it would be a fine night,” he remarked. 
“ Yes,” said Mr. Oliver. " I’ve no fault to find with 
the weather. We’ll get most of the logs piled for burn- 
ing if it lasts.” 

Harry smiled at Frank. “ Dad’s slow to take a hint. 
I wasn’t thinking of the logs.” 

“I can believe it,” Mr. Oliver retorted. “ Anyway, 
they have to be hauled out, and it’s easier to do it now 
than when the soil’s soft and boggy.” 

Frank, who had been heaving the sawed trunks on 
top of one another with Jake, agreed with the rancher. 
The big masses of timber slid easily over the snow and 
they were clean to handle, which was something to be 
thankful for after the difficulty they had had in moving 
them when they were foul with clotted mire. The frost, 
as he had discovered, seldom lasted long in that country, 
but it was very cold and the firs towered flecked with 
snow against a clear blue sky. 

“ I was wondering if there was any reason why we 
shouldn’t try to get a duck to-night,” said Harry. “We 
won’t go near the island where the cache is. There’s 
a flat behind the other one to the southward.” 

“ I can think of one reason,” his father answered. 
216 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 


217 


“ You won’t feel like working to-morrow, and there’s 
a good deal of log-hauling to be done.” 

“ We’ll be ready to start as usual,” persisted Harry. 

“ Then you can go on that condition, but you’ll have 
to stick to it. I don’t mind your getting a few hours’ 
shooting now and then, but I expect you to be ranchers 
first of all when there’s work on hand.” 

Harry repeated his assurance and Mr. Oliver made no 
more objections. When they had heaved up the next 
log Jake turned to the boys. 

“ There’ll be a moon and I guess you’re not going to 
do much on the flats,” he said. “ You want to cut two 
very short paddles and put some spruce brush that you 
can lie on in the canoe. Then if you keep quite flat 
you might creep up on a flock of ducks in one of the 
channels. You can’t do it if you use the ordinary 
paddle kneeling.” 

He split them two flat slabs off the butt of a cedar, 
but Mr. Oliver, who was chopping nearby, looked around 
when Harry began to hack them into shape. 

“ What are those for ? ” he asked. 

“ Paddles,” Harry answered with some hesitation. 

“ You’re logging just now,” said his father dryly. 
“ I want another tier put up before it’s dark.” 

Harry laid down the half-finished paddles and grinned 
at Frank. 

“ I guess dad’s quite right, but his way of staying with 
it gets riling now and then.” 

Frank laughed. One day when Harry had hurt his 
knee and there was no work of any consequence on 
hand, Mr. Oliver had taken him out into the bush, and 
the boy had a painful recollection of the journey they 
had made together. No thicket was too dense or thorny 
for the rancher to scramble through, and he prowled 
about the steepest slopes and amongst the thickest tangles 
of fallen logs with the same unflagging persistency until 


21$ BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

at the first shot he killed a deer. Mr. Oliver was, as 
his son and Jake sometimes said, a stayer, one who 
invariably put through what he took in hand. He was 
the kind of person Frank aspired to become, though he 
was discovering that he was not likely to accomplish it 
by taking things easily. Success, it seemed, could only 
be attained by ceaseless effort and constant carefulness. 

He went on with the logging, though the work was 
remarkably heavy, and it was an occupation he had no 
liking for, but he helped Harry to finish the paddles 
after supper. Then they carried a bundle of spruce 
twigs down to the canoe, and, though there was not much 
wind, tied a reef in the sloop’s mainsail, which Mr. Oliver 
had insisted on before they loosed the moorings. 

An hour later and shortly before low water they let 
go the anchor in a lane of water which wound into a 
stretch of sloppy sand. It was just deep enough for the 
sloop to creep into with her centerboard up, and the flats 
ran back from it into a thin mist on either side. It was 
very cold and the deck glittered in the pale moonlight 
white with frost. Frank stood up looking about him 
while Harry arranged the twigs in the canoe, but there 
was very little to see. The sky was hazy, the moon was 
encircled by a halo, and wet sand and winding water 
glimmered faintly. At one point he could dimly make 
out the dark loom of an island, but there was no sign 
of the beach in front of him. Though he could feel 
a light wind on his face, it was very still, except for the 
ripple of water and the occasional splash of undermined 
sand falling into the channel, which seemed startlingly 
distinct. Once he heard a distant calling of wildfowl, 
but it died away again. 

Dropping into the canoe when his companion was ready 
he took up one of the longer paddles. The water was 
quite smooth and they made good progress, but Harry 
did not seem satisfied. 

“ If I’d had any sense I’d have brought a pole to shove 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 


219 


her with,” he complained. “ It’s handier in shallow 
water and the ducks seem to be a long way up. A 
creek that runs out on the beach makes this channel.” 

Frank paddled on, watching the sloppy banks slide by 
and the palely gleaming strip of water run back into the 
haze in front of him until at last it forked off into 
two branches. 

“ We’ll try this one,” said Harry. “ I believe it works 
right around behind the island. The flood should come 
up that end first, and it ought to drive the feeding birds 
back over the sands to us.” 

The water got deeper as they proceeded, for Frank 
could feel no bottom when he sank his blade, but there 
was no sign of any duck until at last they heard a faint 
quacking in the mist. Soon afterward there was a shrill 
scream as a flock of some of the smaller waders wheeled 
above their heads. 

“ Now,” said Harry, “ we’ll try Jake’s idea. If the 
ducks aren’t on the water they’ll be along the edge of 
it where the bank’s soft. You don’t often find them 
feeding where the sand’s dry and hard.” 

They placed the guns handy, and lying down upon the 
spruce brush dipped the short blades. Frank found the 
position a very uncomfortable one to paddle in, and he 
could not keep his hands from getting wet, though the 
water was icy cold. They were fast becoming swollen 
and tingled painfully in the stinging frost. Still, the boys 
made some progress, and at last looking up at a whisper 
from Harry, Frank saw a dark patch upon the water 
some distance in front of him. Harry edged the canoe 
closer in with the bank, which had a slope of two or 
three feet on that side. 

After that they crept on slowly, because they dared not 
use much force for fear of splashing, and Frank’s wet 
fingers were rapidly growing useless. The ducks became 
a little more distinct and he could see other birds moving 
about in the faint gleam on the opposite bank. Some 


220 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


of them, standing out against the wet surface, looked 
extraordinarily large, though he could not tell what they 
were. 

At last a sudden eerie screaming broke out close ahead 
and Frank started and almost dropped his paddle as a 
second flock of waders rose from the gloom of the 
bank. They flashed white in the moonlight as they turned 
and wheeled on simultaneously slanted wings. Then 
they vanished for a moment as their dusky upper plumage 
was turned toward the boys, gleamed again more dimly, 
and the haze swallowed them. They had, however, given 
the alarm, and the air was filled with the harsh clamor 
of startled wildfowl. 

“ Now 1 ” cried Harry. “ Before the ducks get up ! ” 

Frank flung in his paddle and pitched his gun to his 
shoulder, with the barrel resting on the side of the canoe. 
It sparkled in the moonlight, distracting his sight, and 
stung his wet hand, but he could see dark bodies rising 
from the water ahead. As he pressed the trigger Harry’s 
gun blazed across the bows, and following the double 
crash there was an outbreak of confused sound, the sharp 
splash of webbed feet that trailed through water, a dis- 
cordant screaming, and the beat of many wings. Indis- 
tinct objects whirled across the moonlight and as Frank 
with stiffened fingers snapped open the breach Harry’s 
gun once more flung out a train of yellow sparks. Then 
the smoke hung about them smelling curiously acrid in 
the frosty air and they seized the paddles to drive the 
canoe clear of it. When they had left it behind them 
the lane of water was empty except for one small dark 
patch upon it, and the clamor of the wildfowl was dying 
away. They had paddled a few yards when Frank made 
out that something was stumbling away from them along 
the shadowy bank, but they were almost abreast of it 
before he could get another shell into the chamber. The 
bird lay still when he fired, and Harry picked up the duck 
on the water, after which he ran the canoe ashore. 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 


221 


“ So far as I could see, the rest of them headed across 
the flat toward the other channel,” he said. “ It looks 
soft here, but, as you’ll have to get out to pick up the 
duck yonder, it might be a good idea if you followed 
them over the sand. I’ll work along the creek and it’s 
likely that any birds I put up will fly over you.” 

This seemed possible to Frank, who realized that the 
walk would warm him, and he stepped out of the canoe 
into several inches of slushy sand. Floundering through 
it, he picked up the duck and threw it to Harry, who 
shoved the canoe out. 

“ I won’t go far and you had better head back toward 
the forks in half an hour or so,” he said. “ I’ll probably 
be waiting.” 

The canoe slid away, and Frank felt sorry that he had 
left her when he reached the harder top of the bank. 
The level flat which stretched away before him into the 
mist looked very desolate, and the deep stillness had a 
depressing effect on him. He also remembered that in 
another hour or less the flood tide would come creeping 
back across the dreary waste. He could, however, think 
of no reasonable excuse for rejoining his companion, and 
turning his back on the channel he set out across the 
sand. Nothing moved upon it as he plodded on, the 
silence seemed to be growing deeper, and he had an idea 
that the haze was denser than it had been. Still, he deter- 
mined to make the round Harry had suggested and quick- 
ened his pace. 

It was some time later when he heard a double report 
that sounded a long way off and he stopped to listen, 
when the clamor of the wildfowl broke out again. It 
died away, but he fancied that a faint, rhythmic sound 
stole out of the silence that followed it. A minute later 
he was sure that a flight of ducks was crossing the flat 
and, what was more, that the birds were heading toward 
him. As yet he could see nothing of them, for there 
was now no doubt that the mist was thicker. He 


222 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


crouched down as the sound increased, as it occurred to 
him that he would be too plainly visible standing up in 
the moonlight on the level flat. 

The sound drew nearer, growing in a steady crescendo 
until he wondered that a duck’s wing could make so 
much noise, and at last a number of shadowy objects 
broke out of the mist, flying low and swiftly in regular 
formation. The gun flashed, and the ducks swept on. and 
vanished, all but one which came slowly fluttering down 
out of the mist. 

Frank spent nearly a minute fumbling with stiffened 
fingers while he crammed in another shell, and then saw 
that the duck was running across the sand some way off. 
Closing the breach he set off after it, and had got a little 
nearer when it rose, fluttered awkwardly, and fell again, 
though it was able to make good progress on its feet. 
Twice he got within sixty yards of it, but on one occa- 
sion it flew a little way, and on the second it swam 
across a long pool which he had to run around. Indeed, 
it led him a considerable distance before he brought it 
down. 

Picking it up he stopped and looked about him. It 
was pleasant to feel a little warmer, but there was noth- 
ing to guide him toward the other fork of the channel 
except the drift of the mist and the chill of the wind 
upon one side of his face, and he could not be sure that 
the wounded bird had led him straight. The flat was 
level and bare except for little pools of water on which 
were glistening filaments of ice. It was, however, too 
cold to stand still with wet feet and consider, and decid- 
ing that the sooner he got down to the forks the sooner 
he would be back on board the sloop, he set off briskly. 
He had had enough of wandering about that desolate 
waste. 

At last, to his relief, he saw a faint silvery glimmer 
ahead in the mist, and turning off he struck the channel 
a little lower down. There was no sign of a duck or 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 


223 


anything else, but he was by no means sorry for this, 
for his one idea was to get back to the forks as soon as 
possible, and the surest way of doing it was to follow 
the creek. It appeared to be a considerable distance, 
though he walked as fast as he could, splashing straight 
through shallow pools and slipping in half-frozen mud, 
and when at last he reached the spot where the channels 
branched off he could see nothing of Harry or the canoe. 
What troubled him almost as much was the fact that the 
stream was now flowing inland, and after a quick glance 
at it he shouted with all his might. His voice rang 
along the water and level sand, but though he called 
again no answer came out of the drifting mist. Then he 
slipped his hand into his pocket to get a cartridge and 
drew it out again with an exclamation of disgust, recol- 
lecting that he had only picked up three or four loose 
shells in the canoe. 

For a moment he stood still considering, and it occurred 
to him that the situation was not a pleasant one. The 
flood tide was making and he did not know how far off 
the beach was, while he had no desire to spend the night 
in the woods. He could not see the island, and in order 
to reach it he would have to cross the main channel, 
which, as he remembered, was moderately deep. On the 
whole it seemed wiser to wade through the smaller fork 
and, if Harry did not overtake him in the meanwhile, 
try to get on board the sloop. She would float in very 
shallow water with her centerboard up, and he had 
touched bottom with the canoe paddle a few yards away 
from her. 

When he had arrived at this decision he plunged into 
the water, which immediately rose above the top of his 
long boots. It was horribly cold, but this caused him 
less concern than the fact that it rippled strongly against 
his legs, which made it clear that he must get down to 
the sloop as fast as possible. He was over his knees 
before he got across, and then he ran his hardest along 


224 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


the edge of the channel, which seemed to be growing 
wider at every moment. The palely gleaming water was 
perfectly smooth, but it was moving with an ominous 
speed. 

He grew breathless, but he did not slacken the pace. 
He went straight, splashing through trickling water and 
into pools, while he strained his eyes for the first glimpse 
of the sloop, but he could only see the mist which hid 
the sand thirty or forty yards in front of him. At last 
he made out a strip of something solid low down ahead 
and then what seemed to be a mast, and a few moments 
later he stopped at the water’s edge. There was noth- 
ing but water in front of him and it was no longer quite 
smooth. Little ripples ran along the sand, and one 
broke about his feet while he gazed at them. It did not 
recede but splashed on, and when he looked around there 
was at least a yard of water behind him. Then he strug- 
gled with a paralyzing sense of dismay, and strove to 
keep his head. It was necessary to think and think very 
hard. 

He could not wait where he was with the water deep- 
ening about him ; while, if he went back and did not find 
Harry before he reached it, the creek, which he would 
no longer be able to cross, would head him off. If he 
followed it up on the near side it would take him away 
from the canoe, and he did not know how far off the 
beach was. There was evidently only one thing to be 
done and that was to get on board the sloop even if 
he had to swim. 

She seemed a horribly long way out, but he splashed 
in hurriedly, afraid to wait a moment lest his resolution 
should melt away, and he was soon waist-deep with a 
strong stream swirling around him. It was almost im- 
possible to keep his feet, the gun hampered him, and 
the coldness of the water seemed to check his breathing 
and take the power out of his limbs. He could not go 
back, however, and face a journey through the mist 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 


225 


across the waste of sand, and setting his lips he strug- 
gled on. Twice he was almost swept away, but at last 
making a savage effort he clutched the stern of the 
craft and scrambled up on to her deck. 

The first thing he did was to light the stove, and when 
a pleasant warmth began to fill the cabin he was con- 
scious of a strong desire to sit still and dry his clothes. 
That, unfortunately, was out of the question, and he 
reluctantly crawled out and stood up on deck. There 
was nothing but water around him now. It stretched 
back on every side into the mist, and the only sounds 
were the soft lap of the tide and the ripple it made 
flowing over thinly covered sand. Then having already 
decided that Harry would have some difficulty in pad- 
dling against the stream, he set about getting sail upon 
the craft to go in search of the canoe. 

The mainsail looked remarkably big and heavy, and 
he was thankful that there was a reef in it, which made 
the task a little easier before he got it up. Then he 
spent several minutes in very hard work heaving the 
boat up to her anchor, and bruised his swollen hands 
in the determined effort it cost him to break it out. 
After that he set the jib and the sloop slid gently away 
with the wind abeam of her. He did not know exactly 
where she was going, but he shouted as loudly as he 
could every now and then, and at last there was a faint 
answering cry. 

He called again and the cry rose more clearly, after 
which he hauled the sheet and changed his course, and 
by and by the canoe appeared out of the haze close 
ahead. A few moments later Harry paddled alongside, 
and handing up the ducks and his gun made the canoe 
fast before he turned to Frank. 

“ Do you know where you’re heading for ? ” he asked. 

“ No,” Frank confessed. “ I’ve only a notion that 
it’s in toward the land.” 

“ Then we’ll drop the jib and pitch the anchor over. 


226 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


We’ll have to wait until the stream slackens before we 
get out again.” 

They followed his suggestion and Frank was glad 
indeed to creep back into the cozy cabin. 

“ This is uncommonly nice,” drawled Harry, sitting 
down with a smile of content. “ It was horribly cramp- 
ing in the canoe and my hands were ’most too cold to 
paddle.” 

“What kept you?” inquired Frank. 

“ I must have gone farther than I intended and when 
I turned back the tide was running up so strong I could 
hardly make head against it. I was getting scared about 
you when I reached the forks and saw how the water 
was spreading on the sand. After that I didn’t spare 
myself, but I was mighty glad to hear your shout.” 

“ Did you get any more ducks ? ” 

“ No,” said Harry, “ I had only one shot — a long 

>> 

one. 

Frank, who told him to make some coffee, stripped 
off part of his clothes and dressed himself in an old 
blanket, after which they sat beside the stove for an 
hour or so, until Harry crawled out and said that there 
was a little more wind and the mist was thinning. 

Shortly after this they heaved the anchor and started 
again, but once more the wind fell light and a couple of 
hours had passed and they were almost frozen when they 
reached the cove below the ranch. The house was dark 
when they crept into it and went straight to bed, while 
it cost Frank a determined effort to get up before day- 
light next morning. His clothes were still damp and he 
felt sore and aching, but he took his place with the others 
when they sat down to breakfast. 

Logging seemed a particularly unpleasant task that 
day, but he had to go on with it, and he fancied that Mr. 
Oliver, with whom it was necessary to keep pace, worked 
harder than he usually did. Frank was completely ex- 


A NIGHT ON THE SANDS 


227 


hausted when as darkness fell they went back to the 
ranch. 

“ Are you going out again after ducks to-night ? ” Mr. 
Oliver asked him. 

“ No,” said Frank ruefully, “ I feel as if it would 
take me a week to get over the last trip.” 

“ I’m not very much astonished,” Mr. Oliver answered 
with a soft laugh. “ Still, I don’t mind admitting that 
you stood up to your work to-day.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE ULTIMATUM 

T HE frost soon broke up, and it was raining heav- 
ily one afternoon, when the boys were at work 
in an excavation they had driven under a big fir stump 
shortly after their shooting trip. Frank, very wet and 
dirty, lay propped up on one elbow with his head and 
shoulders inside the hole, chopping awkwardly at a root. 
His legs and' feet were in a pool of water outside and 
there was very little room to swing the ax, while at 
every blow the saturated soil fell down on him. Grub- 
bing out a stump in wet weather is a singularly dis- 
agreeable task. 

Harry crouched close beside him where he was partly 
sheltered from the rain by the network of roots which 
rose above his head. The boys had spent most of the 
day cutting through those which ran along the surface 
of the ground and digging to get at the rest, until they 
had been forced to drive a tunnel to ,.*each one or two 
which went vertically down, for it was an unusually 
large stump. At last when his ax shoved through the 
obstacle Frank paused for breath, and, as it was getting 
dark in the excavation, Harry lighted a piece of candle. 
The light fell upon a massive shaft of wet wood which 
sank into the ground. 

“ Nobody fixed as we are could chop through that,” 
he grumbled. “ It’s the big taproot, and it would take 
most of another day’s shoveling to make room to get 
at it with the crosscut. It looks as if we’d have to put 
some giant powder in. Where’s that auger ? ” 

Frank reached out for the boring tool, which resem- 
228 


THE ULTIMATUM 


229 


bled a huge corkscrew, only that instead of a handle it 
had a hole at its upper end for the insertion of a short 
lever. 

“ I’ll bore while you get things ready, if you like,” 
he suggested. “Do you often use dynamite?” 

“We never fire a shot when we can help it, though 
there are ranchers who get through a lot of the stuff. 
Giant powder’s expensive, and, though labor’s expensive, 
too, you have to figure whether a shot’s going to pay. 
It’s worth while if it will save you grubbing most of 
the day. Slant the hole you bore a little upward while 
I go along for the magazine.” 

Harry crawled out of the excavation, and Frank slipped 
a crossbar through the hole in the auger, driving the 
point of the latter into the wood. It went in easily, 
but the work grew harder as he twisted it round and 
round, kneeling with his shoulders against the roots, while 
the candle flickered and big drops of water trickled down 
on him. The position was a cramping one, and his wet 
hands slipped upon the crossbar, but he had become 
accustomed to doing unpleasant things, and it was evi- 
dent that one could not clear a ranch without grubbing 
stumps. 

By and by Harry came back, and telling him to hold 
the light carefull) . produced what looked rather like a 
yellow candle, and a piece of black cord with a copper 
cap nipped down on the end of it. 

“ That’s the detonator,” he said, pointing to the cap. 
“ You saw one or two of them at Webster’s ranch.” 

“ I didn’t feel inclined to stop and examine them then,” 
Frank answered with a laugh. 

“ They’re very like the caps used for guns, only, as 
you see, they’re bigger, and it’s wise to be careful how 
you pinch one down on the fuse. The stuff they fill 
the end with is mighty powerful. So’s giant powder, 
but it’s peculiar because it will only burn unless you fire 
it with something that makes a bang. At least, that’s 


230 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

what it does in a general way. The trouble is you can 
never be quite sure of it.” 

He worked the soft yellow substance over the deto- 
nator, after which he thrust it gently into the auger hole 
and pressed a handful of soil down on it. Frank was 
thankful when he had finished, for having heard of the 
tremendous powers of the giant powder he did not care 
to be shut up with it among that network of roots. 
Then Harry, straightening the strip of black fuse which 
projected from the hole, took a quick glance about him. 

“ We’ll make sure we can get out before we light it,” 
he remarked, taking the candle and holding it to the 
fuse. “ You don’t want to stay around once the fuse 
is burning. Crawl back and hold those rqots up out 
of my way.” 

The candle was by this time sputtering and sparkling, 
and Frank swung himself up out of the hole and set off 
madly across the clearing, shouting to Mr. Oliver and 
Jake, who were at work not far away. His companion, 
following close behind, stopped him presently. 

“ Hold on ! ” he shouted with a laugh. “ You needn’t 
run right down to the cove. Giant powder’s kind of 
local in its action, and that charge isn’t going to turn 
the whole clearing upside down.” 

They waited behind a neighboring stump, and a few 
minutes later Frank, who had felt himself thrilled with 
expectation, was grievously disappointed. He had looked 
for a spectacular result, but there was only a dull, heavy 
thud, a sound of rending and splitting, and a wisp of 
vapor out of which a little soil flew up. 

“ Now,” said Harry, “ we’ll go along and have a look, 
but we’ll work around the stump and come at it down 
the wind.” 

“Why?” Frank asked. 

His companion snickered. “ Only that it would prob- 
ably knock you over, I’d let you go and see. It’s wise 
to keep clear of the gases after firing giant powder. 


THE ULTIMATUM 


231 


They haven’t the same effect on everybody, but most 
men who get a whiff of them want to lie down for the 
rest of the day.” 

They approached the stump cautiously on its windward 
side, but there was not much to see. It appeared to 
have been split and was slightly raised, but it had cer- 
tainly not been blown to fragments, as Frank had ex- 
pected. 

“Do you think the shot has cut the root?” he asked. 

“ No,” said Harry with a smile, “ you couldn’t call 
it cutting. It has melted it, swallowed it, blotted it right 
out. You’ll find very little of that root to-morrow, and 
there won’t be any pieces lying round either.” 

He broke off and grabbed Frank’s arm as the latter 
moved toward the other side of the stump. 

“ Come back ! ” he warned. “ The gas is hanging 
about yet.” 

Frank noticed a rather unpleasant smell, and was 
conscious of a pain in his head, but it passed off as they 
crossed the clearing together. As it was getting too 
dark to work, Mr. Oliver and Jake joined them before 
they reached the house. They changed their clothes 
when they went in, and after toiling in the rain all day 
Frank was glad to sit down dressed in dry things at the 
well-spread table. The room was very cozy with its 
bright lamp and snapping stove, and the doleful wail of 
the wind and the thrashing of the rain outside empha- 
sized its cheerfulness. He felt languidly content with 
himself and the simple, strenuous life he led. For the 
most part, though they had occasional adventures, it 
was an uneventful one, and some time had passed since 
they had heard anything of the dope runners. He won- 
dered what had become of them, or if they had found 
smuggling unprofitable and had given it up. 

Supper was about half finished when there was a 
knock at the door and the dog rose with a growl. Harry 
seized the animal’s collar just as a man appeared in the 


232 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


entrance. His clothes were black with water and a 
trickle of it ran from the brim of the soft hat he held 
in one hand. He was a young man and the paleness 
of his face suggested that he was from the cities. 

“ Is it far to Carthew Creek ? ” he inquired. 

“ Eight or nine miles,” Mr. Oliver replied. “ The 
trail’s very bad and you’ll have some trouble in keeping 
it on a night like this. Have you any reason for going 
straight through ? ” 

“ I believe a steamboat calls to-morrow and I thought 
of going back with her. I’ve had about enough of these 
bush trails.” 

“ Then we’ll put you up,” said Mr. Oliver obligingly. 
“You can get on again first thing in the morning. 
You’re wet enough now, aren’t you ? ” 

The stranger admitted that he was, but seemed to 
hesitate. 

“ I don’t want to trouble Miss Oliver,” he said. “ Still, 
as it happens, I’ve a message for you.” 

Mr. Oliver said that he would give him some dry 
clothes, and the two withdrew to get them. They came 
back a few minutes later and sat down at the table. 
The stranger made an excellent meal, and Mr. Oliver 
waited until he had finished before he asked a question : 

“ Have you walked in ? ” 

“ From the settlement,” the other answered. “ As 
I expected to get back by the steamboat, I left my hired 
horse with Porteous at the store.” 

“ Porteous doesn’t keep the store.” 

“The other fellow got hurt chopping a week or so 
ago. A log or a big branch fell on him, and they sent 
him off to Seattle. Porteous is running the business 
until he gets better.” 

Frank fancied that Mr. Oliver was displeased at this, 
but there was no change in his manner toward his visi- 
tor. 

“ Is he running the post office, too ? ” he asked. 


THE ULTIMATUM 


233 


“ Oh, yes. I had to tell him something about a letter.” 

“ You mentioned that you had some business with me. 
I suppose you’re looking up orders for fruit trees? ” 

The stranger smiled. “ I’m a store clerk by profession. 
Out of a job at present. Name’s T. Graham Watkins. 
Now you know me.” 

He turned to Miss Oliver with a bow, but she made 
no comment, and he glanced toward the boys. 

“ We’ve got to have a talk,” he added, addressing Mr. 
Oliver. “ I’m not sure you’d want these young men or 
your sister to hear.” 

“ You can tell it here,” said Mr. Oliver dryly. “ I can 
make a guess at your business, and if I’m right I’ve 
no objections to the others staying where they are.” 

“ Then it’s just this. The folks I represent aren’t 
pleased with you. They’ve a notion that you’ve been 
bucking against them for the last few months and trying 
to find out things they’d rather keep dark.” 

“ I presume you’re referring to the dope runners. 
Why didn’t they come themselves?” 

“ That’s easily answered,” said Mr. Watkins. “ I un- 
derstand you haven’t seen one of them yet, and they don’t 
want to give you an opportunity of doing so.” 

Harry grinned at Frank across the table unnoticed by 
the speaker. 

“ In my case it doesn’t matter,” the latter added. 
“ I’ve merely called to give you a message.” 

“ Aren’t you rather hanging fire with it ? ” Mr. Oliver 
asked. 

“ I feel kind of diffident. I don’t want to say anything 
that might alarm your sister.” 

Miss Oliver smiled. “ You needn’t hesitate. My 
brother generally takes me into his confidence, and I 
don’t think either of us is very easily startled.” 

“ Won’t you send the boys away, anyhow ? ” 

“ No,” said Mr. Oliver quietly, “ I think I mentioned 
that I’d rather let them stay.” 


234 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ Well,” said the other, “ this is the position. The 
gentlemen you mentioned can land their stuff near here 
and get it away through the bush easily; that is, if you’ll 
lie by and take no hand against them. There are other 
routes, but they’re longer and more difficult, and my friends 
would rather stick to this one if it’s possible. The ques- 
tion is how can they make it worth your while to shut 
your eyes and leave them alone ? ” 

Harry suddenly straightened himself and Frank noticed 
the quick flush of anger in his face, but Miss Oliver 
was smiling and the rancher’s voice was as tranquil as 
usual. 

“ The answer’s very simple,” he said. “ It can’t be 
done.” 

Mr. Watkins appeared astonished. 

“ I want you to consider your position,” he repeated. 

“ I may tell you that I considered it carefully some 
months ago, but there’s a point I’d like to mention. Has 
it struck you that I might promise to fall in with your 
friends’ views and all the same give them away ? ” 

“ It was talked about,” Mr. Watkins answered. “ We 
decided it wouldn’t be in keeping with what we knew 
about your character, and you’d certainly be sorry you 
had done it afterward.” 

“ Now we’re coming to the second and more important 
half of the message,” said Mr. Oliver. 

“ You’re right,” was the answer. “ I’m to understand 
that when you say you won’t meet my friends’ views 
it’s your last word?” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Oliver firmly. 

“Then my message is a plain one. Let up, or look 
out. I want you to fix your attention on the last part 
of it. You have quite a nice place here, a high-class 
barn and homestead, and a good hay crop, and there’s 
nobody living within some miles of you except Webster.” 

“ Precisely ! ” said Mr. Oliver. “ They cost me a good 


THE ULTIMATUM 


235 


deal of very hard work and I shall try to keep them. 
Now I suppose you’ve said your piece?” 

Mr. Watkins raised his hand as if to beg his forbear- 
ance. 

“ You’ve heard it all. I only want to add that I’m 
quite willing to start right now for Carthew if you wish 
it.” 

Mr. Oliver laughed naturally and easily. 

“ No,” he said, “ you’re my guest for the night. After 
this we’ll change the subject and talk about something 
else.” He looked around. “ Harry, will you bring the 
cigar box out?” 

Mr. Watkins did not appear to be a brilliant conver- 
sationalist, but he discussed politics and railroad exten- 
sion with his host, and Frank found himself wondering 
at and admiring the rancher’s attitude. He had shown 
no sign of anger and had never failed in courtesy. 
Threats had apparently no effect on him, and he had 
received them with a quiet amusement which appealed in 
particular to the boy’s fancy. It seemed ever so much 
finer than blustering indignation, but he thought that 
there would be a striking change in Mr. Oliver’s manner 
if he were ever driven to action. 

Mr. Watkins took his departure after breakfast next 
morning, after which Mr. Oliver wrote two letters before 
he called the boys. 

“ I want you to take the sloop and go up to the settle- 
ment,” he said. “ You will mail this letter there. It’s 
to Barclay, though it isn’t directly addressed to him.” 

Harry looked thoughtful. 

“ Of course,” he said hesitatingly, “ I’ll do that if you 
wish it, but Porteous is a mean white, isn’t he? Mightn’t 
he open the thing?” 

“ It’s possible,” Mr. Oliver answered with a smile. 
“ As it happens, I’ve no great objections to his reading 
it, and I’m mailing it with him as an experiment. Don’t 


236 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


put it into the box, but hand it to him. When you have 
done that sail back along the beach and then head right 
across to Bannington’s, where you’ll mail this other letter. 
As you can’t be back to-night, you had better take some 
provisions with you. Start as soon as you can.” 

The boys were off in half an hour, for the rain had 
stopped and there was a clear sky and a moderate breeze. 
As they sailed out of the cove Harry from his place at 
the helm glanced at his companion with a chuckle. 

“ When you come to understand him, dad’s unique,” 
he said. “ Porteous will open that letter. He’s mean 
enough for anything, and it’s been my opinion all along 
that he’s in with the gang.” 

“ But won’t it give your father’s plans away if he reads 
it?” 

“ Not much ! ” said Harry. “ Haven’t you got hold 
yet? The letter’s about hunting, and there’s most likely 
an order in it for Winchester shells or something else 
that will put Porteous off the track. He’s probably not 
an expert at opening envelopes, and it won’t take Barclay 
long to tell whether anybody has been tampering with 
the letter. The other one will go through without being 
interfered with. They’re white at Bannington’s.” 

“ That won’t get over much of the difficulty, after all,” 
Frank objected. “ Won’t your father’s answer bring 
Watkins’s friends down upon the ranch? ” 

“ It’s possible,” said Harry. “ I’ve a notion that when 
they come dad will be ready for them, and I fancy Bar- 
clay’s nearly through with his trailing.” 

“ You expect he’ll make a new move then?” 

Harry laughed. “ Sure ! ” he said. “ That little, fat 
man will get everything fixed up without making the least 
fuss. Then he’ll bring his hand down once for all and 
smash the whole dope-running gang. I don’t mind allow- 
ing that I was quite wrong about him at the beginning.” 

They said nothing more upon the subject, and they 
safely reached the cove next day after a long, cold sail. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


MR. OLIVER OUTWITS HIS WATCHERS 

A DAY or two after they had got back to the ranch 
Mr. Oliver asked the boys if they would like an- 
other trip, and as both of them preferred it to grubbing 
stumps they paddled off to the canoe with him the same 
evening. A fresh breeze sprang up as the sun went 
down, and they had a fast and rather wet sail. Daylight 
was breaking across the scattered pines when the party 
left the sloop and walked up a trail within sight of a 
little lonely settlement. 

As they approached it a harsh clanking and the tolling 
of a bell rose from behind the trees, and they had to 
wait while a locomotive and a string of freight cars 
jolted across the trail into a neighboring side track. 
When the train had passed Mr. Oliver and his com- 
panions crossed the rails and entered a desolate flag 
station, which consisted of a roughly boarded, iron- 
roofed shack and a big water tank. In front of it was 
an open space strewn with fir stumps, and beyond the 
latter three or four frame houses rose among the trees. 
The door of the shack was shut, and while they stood 
outside it the sound of an approaching train grew steadily 
louder and a jet of steam blew noisily from the valve 
of the locomotive waiting in the side track. 

“A Seattle train,” said Mr. Oliver. “ They don’t 
seem to be flagging her and she probably won’t stop.” 

Frank stood looking about him with a curious stirring 
of his heart. There was a gaudy poster pasted up on 
the shack announcing cheap tickets to Seattle, with a 
line or two about a circus and some attraction at an 
237 


238 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


opera house. In the meanwhile the scream of a whistle 
came ringing across the shadowy trees and the boy was 
troubled by the familiar sights and sounds. The wet 
rails, the freight cars, and the brilliant poster reminded 
him of the cities he had turned his back upon some time 
ago. 

Then, though the daylight was rapidly growing clearer, 
a big blazing lamp broke out from among the firs with 
a cloud of steam streaming behind it, and a locomotive 
and a row of clanging cars swept through the depot. The 
lights from the windows flashed into Frank’s face, flick- 
ered upon the shack and rows of stumps, and grew dim 
again, after which the din receded and came throbbing 
back fainter and fainter. As he listened to it, a sudden 
fierce longing seized the boy. He wanted to hear the 
clamor of the cities again, to see the big stores and the 
hurrying crowds. Almost a year had elapsed since he 
had even seen a train, and a journey of two or three 
hours would take him back to the stir and bustle of 
civilization away from the constant monotonous toil with 
ax and saw in the lonely bush. 

He wondered what his people were doing in Boston. In 
the winter season there were festivities and gayety there, 
and he had once enjoyed them with his old companions 
who had most likely forgotten him. Some had gone into 
business, two were at Harvard, and another had entered 
the army; but he stood, dressed in miry long boots and 
old well-mended garments still damp with salt water, in 
a little desolate depot in the wilderness. He fancied that 
he was justified in feeling rather sorry for himself. 

Then with an effort he drove these thoughts away. 
After all, his place was not in the cities. He had no 
money and there was nobody to give him a fair start 
in life, while he admitted that it was very doubtful that 
he had any talent for business. He might, perhaps, 
become a clerk or something of the kind, but it once more 
occurred to him that he was better off in the bush. 


MR. OLIVER OUTWITS WATCHERS 239 


Indeed, though he scarcely realized this, the bush had 
already made a striking change in him, and it is possible 
that his eastern friends would have had trouble in 
recognizing him as the pale lad they had sent away to 
Minneapolis. His face was bronzed and resolute, he 
was taller, tougher, and broader around the chest, and 
he could now toil all day at a task which would once 
have broken him down in a couple of hours. Then he 
started as he noticed that Mr. Oliver was looking at him 
with a smile. 

“ You seem to be thinking rather hard,” the rancher 
remarked. 

“ I was,” Frank admitted hesitatingly. “ It was the 
train that put the ideas into my mind.” 

“ I fancied it might be something of that description,” 
said Mr. Oliver. “ She'd soon have taken you up to 
Seattle, and nowadays it’s a very short run to Chicago, 
where you could get on to one of the Atlantic flyers. I 
suppose you feel that you’d like to make the journey?” 

“ I did — for a minute or two,” Frank confessed with 
an embarrassed smile. “ Then, of course, I realized that 
it was impossible.” 

Somewhat to his astonishment, Mr. Oliver laid a hand 
upon his shoulder. 

“ The wish was very natural, but stay where you are, 
my lad. There’s more room out here in the Western 
bush, and you’re making progress. This is going to be 
a great country, and you won’t be sorry you came out 
in a few more years.” 

“ I’m not sorry now,” Frank answered sturdily, with 
a flush in his face. 

Mr. Oliver turned away as the agent opened the door 
of his shack, and they went into the little, untidy office. 

“ I want to send a message south,” said Mr. Oliver, 
writing something on a form. “ It’s a code address. I 
suppose I could get an answer in an hour or so?” 

u Oh, yes,” said the agent. “ They’ll be beginning to 


240 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


move about in Seattle now, and if the man’s in his office 
there’ll be no delay. In the meanwhile they would give 
you a good breakfast at the hotel.” 

Mr. Oliver thanked him, and as they left the depot 
two men whom they had not noticed hitherto met them. 
Mr. Oliver glanced at them sharply, but he did not speak, 
and a few minutes later they sat down to an excellent 
meal in the primitive wooden hotel. When they had 
finished the proprietor strolled in and sat down for a 
chat with them. 

“ Is there much going on about the place? ” Mr. Oliver 
asked, offering him a cigar. 

“ Yes,” said the hotelkeeper, accepting the proffered 
cigar with alacrity, “ we’ve struck quite a boom. There’s 
a man clearing a lot of ground for a fruit ranch and put- 
ting up a smart frame house. Then they’re cutting a 
couple of new trails. The boys are making good wages 
and they’re all of them busy.” 

“ I saw two men just now who didn’t seem to have 
much to do,” said Mr. Oliver carelessly, and Harry gave 
his companion a nudge with his elbow. 

“ They don’t belong here,” was the answer. “ One 
of them lives down the beach and does some fishing with 
his boat. The other man came in from the South yester- 
day on the cars, and I don’t know what he’s after. I 
told him I could put him on to a job and he said he 
didn’t want it.” 

“ As they’re together, he’s probably going in for fishing 
with the first one,” Mr. Oliver suggested. 

The- hotelkeeper pursed his lips and looked as if he 
were solving a hard problem. 

“ It’s a puzzle to me how Larry makes a living. It’s 
only now and then he sends a little fish away, and I 
can’t see what he’d do with a partner.” Then he changed 
the subject. “ You’re thinking of buying land?” 

. “ No,” said Mr. Oliver, “ I sailed over in my boat to 
dispatch a wire. It was much easier than riding a long 


MR. OLIVER OUTWITS WATCHERS 241 


way to the nearest office now that the trails are soft.” 

“ They’re bad, sure,” assented his companion, and they 
continued to discuss ranching until Mr. Oliver finally 
rose and said he would walk across to the depot. The 
boys followed him a few paces behind. Harry addressed 
his companion with a look of admiration for his father. 

“ I guess you noticed how dad found out about those 
fellows without letting the man think he was curious ? ” 
he said. 

Frank said that he had noticed it and added: 

“ I wonder what the fellow came up from the South 
for?” 

“ That,” said Harry significantly, “ is a point I expect 
dad’s doing some hard thinking on just now.” 

They walked into the agent’s office and sat down to 
wait as he told them that he had as yet received no 
answer to the telegram. The door near which Frank 
sat stood partly open, and he noticed that the two men 
were lounging close outside it. He quietly touched Mr. 
Oliver’s arm, indicating them with a glance. The rancher 
knitted his brows and presently spoke to the agent. 

“ There are two men who seem to be waiting for you 
outside,” he said. 

The agent walked across to the door. 

“ Back again, Larry ! ” he said impatiently. “ What’s 
the matter now ? ” 

“ When’s that fish box of mine coming along?” the 
man inquired. 

“ I don’t know,” said the agent. “ Next freight, most 
likely, if it’s been delivered to us at the other end.” 

“ Won’t you wire up the line about it? ” 

“ No,” said the agent. “If you’ll put up the stamps 
I’ll wire to the fish store you billed it to.” 

The man looked indignant. “ I tell you it’s in the 
railroad’s hands. Do you think I’ve nothing better to 
do than hang about this depot every time a freight comes 
through ? ” He paused a moment with his eyes on the 


242 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


ground, then went on : “ Anyway, now I’m on the spot 
I may as well wait for the next one. She should be along 
in about an hour. Won’t you let me in?” 

The telegraph instrument began to click just then and 
the agent turned toward him sharply. 

“ There’s no room. You can wait at the hotel.” 

“ Perhaps the message is about his box,” broke in the 
other man. 

Frank glanced around at them. They were dressed 
like most of the bush choppers in rough working clothes 
and there was nothing particularly noticeable in their 
appearance, but he fancied that they had some reason 
for wishing to get into the office. 

“ No, sir,” said the agent. “ They don’t wire about 
the delivery of an empty box on this road. Get out! 
I want to shut the door.” 

Frank noticed that one of the loungers had thrust 
his foot against the post, but the agent, seeming to lose 
his temper, slammed the door on it. The man withdrew 
it with an exclamation, and the agent turned toward the 
instrument which was now clicking rapidly. He tapped 
an answering signal, and then wrote upon a strip of 
paper which he handed Mr. Oliver. The latter read the 
message and handed it to the boys. 

“First route unsatisfactory second preferred ” it ran. 
“Meet me nine to-night Everett if possible ” 

Frank was puzzled, but he fancied that Harry under- 
stood the message better than he did. 

“ Thanks,” said Mr. Oliver, addressing the agent. 
" Your two friends outside seemed uncommonly anxious 
about that box.” 

“ That’s a fact,” said the agent. “ Larry was worrying 
me about it before it was light. I don’t know the fellow 
who came along with him, but it struck me that he was 
listening to the instrument as if he understood it, though 
he couldn’t have heard more than the depot call. Of 


MR. OLIVER OUTWITS WATCHERS 243 


course," he added thoughtfully, “ 'most any one who had 
worked on a railroad would know the code, but I can't 
figure why they should make so much fuss about a box 
that's scarcely worth a dollar." 

“ It’s curious," Mr. Oliver answered indifferently. 
“ You might lend me your train schedule." 

The agent gave him the company’s time bill, which also 
included the coast steamboat sailings, and Mr. Oliver 
walked back with the boys to the hotel. There was no- 
body in the general room when they reached it, and they 
sat down near the stove. 

“ Now," he began, “ as we have taken you into our con- 
fidence and it’s probable that you can help, you may 
as well understand the situation thoroughly. The message 
was, of course, from Barclay, though it bears a clerk’s 
name, and it means that Porteous has opened the letter 
you left him. I fancy he’ll regret it, but that is by the 
way. Barclay received the second letter untampered 
with, and the rest is plain enough. The only question 
is how I’m to keep the appointment without putting the 
fellows at the depot on my track." 

“You believe they’re in league with the smugglers?” 
Frank inquired. 

Mr. Oliver smiled. “ It seems very likely. Here's a 
man who keeps a boat, and, as you have heard, folks won- 
der how he makes a living by his fishing. If the boat’s 
moderately fast you can imagine how useful he would 
be to the smugglers by taking messages from place to 
place and communicating with the schooner. Then we 
have another man who seems able to read the telegraph 
turning up and trying to hear Barclay’s message." 

“ But how could they have learned that you expected 
it?” Frank asked. 

“ I'm not sure. Porteous may have suspected some- 
thing and sent a mounted man off to wire one of the 
gang. Besides, the fellow who has the boat may have 
been across with her. It wouldn’t be hard to surmise 


244 BOY, RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


that I would wire from here, though they may have had 
a man watching the nearest office I coul have reached 
by land on horseback.” He paused a moment and looked 
at the boys gravely. “All this points to the fact that 
we’re up against a big and remarkably well-organized 
gang.” 

Frank had no doubt that Mr. Oliver was right, but 
he asked a question : 

“ Why did Barclay choose Everett when it’s so far 
from the field of their operations ? ” 

“ That’s exactly why he fixed on it. There would be 
less probability of somebody connected with the gang 
recognizing us, and I’ve met him there already. The 
fact that he doesn’t mention any particular hotel should 
have told you that ; but what we have to consider is how 
I’m to get there without these fellows following me. 
It’s important that I should be back at the ranch as soon 
as possible, and you and Harry must manage to arrive 
there the first thing to-morrow.” 

Frank understood the necessity for this. The nights 
were long, the bush was lonely, and Mr. Oliver’s wooden 
house and bams, which had cost him a good deal of 
money, would readily burn, while now, when there was 
only Jake to take care of them, they would be more or 
less at the smugglers’ mercy. Then Harry, who in the 
meanwhile, had been examining the schedule, looked up. 

“ I’ve an idea,” he said. “ There’s a train goes south 
in the afternoon, and a steamboat which calls at Everett 
goes up the Sound this evening. Well, suppose we order 
dinner here and start for Bannington’s a little before the 
cars come in. The steamboat would stop td pick up there 
if she’s signaled, and with this breeze we should get 
down shortly before she passes.” 

Mr. Oliver turned to Frank. 

“ How does that strike you ? ” he asked. 

“ The trouble is that the other men would follow us in 


MR. OLIVER OUTWITS WATCHERS 24,5 


their boat,” the boy objected. Then a light dawned upon 
him as he saw the twinkle in Mr. Oliver’s eyes. “ You 
mean that’s what Harry intended them to do?” 

“ Exactly ! ” Harry broke in with a grin. “ They 
raise brainy folks in Boston, and you’re getting hold. 
Those fellows will get after us as soon as they can hoist 
sail on their boat and we’ll give them a run for it. The 
point is that while they’re following us dad will be on 
the cars.” 

“ But how is he going to elude them ? ” 

“ That,” Harry admitted sagely, “ wants some thinking 
out.” 

They made their plans in the next half-hour, and some 
time after dinner was over walked toward the beach. 
Nobody seemed to be following them, though they could 
not be sure of this since the trail wound about through 
the bush, but when they reached the canoe another boat 
which they had not noticed on arriving lay moored 
a few hundred yards away. They were obliged to 
carry the canoe down some distance over very rough 
stones, and on reaching the water’s edge Mr. Oliver 
took a quick glance about him. 

“ I’m afraid one plan’s spoiled,” he said. 

The boys glanced back toward the trail and Frank saw 
two figures saunter out on to the beach. Harry frowned 
as he glanced at them. 

“ You can’t slip back into the bush without their seeing 
you,” he warned. 

“ No,” said Mr. Oliver. “ Still, I think there’s a means 
of getting over the difficulty. Shove the canoe in. 
They’ll have to carry their boat down, and our boat’s 
lying nearer the head yonder than theirs is.” 

Frank did not understand how the rancher intended to 
evade his pursuers and fancied that Harry was not much 
wiser. They had soon launched the canoe, however, and 
were paddling off to the sloop, running the mainsail up in 


246 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


haste. Then the boys set the jib as she drew out from the 
beach, and Frank noticed that the other men were hoisting 
sail upon their boat as fast as they could manage it. 
The sloop, however, was already some distance away 
from them, and it was not long before she picked up a 
freshening breeze. Lying well over to it she gathered 
speed, and close to lee of her Frank saw a low, rocky 
head, down the face of which straggled stunted pines 
and underbrush. He fancied that she would be hidden 
from their pursuers when she had sailed around the end 
of it, but on glancing back as they approached the 
comer he saw that the other men had started after them. 
They were three or four minutes behind, but he had 
no idea yet how Mr. Oliver meant to elude them. He 
was still wondering about it when the rancher spoke to 
him. 

“ Get hold of the canoe painter,” he ordered. “ The 
moment we’re around the corner we’ll haul her up and 
you’ll put me ashore. You’ll have to be smart about it, 
because you must be back on board before the other 
boat rounds the head.” 

Harry had already taken the helm, and the sloop was 
sailing very fast, with the canoe lurching and splashing 
over the short seas astern of her. They broke in a broad 
fringe of foam upon the stony beach thirty or forty yards 
to lee, and as the boat swept on the bay behind closed in 
and the seaward face of the cliff opened out ahead. 
Frank could still see the boat astern, but as he stood in 
the well with his hands clenched upon a rope he knew 
that in another moment the rocks would shut her out. 
Then, sure enough, she suddenly vanished, and shortly 
afterward he heard Mr. Oliver’s voice. 

“ Haul ! ” he shouted. 

Harry flung loose the mainsheet, but the boat did not 
quicken her speed immediately, and Frank found it des- 
perately hard to drag up the canoe, though Mr. Oliver 
had seized the rope behind him. Haste was, however, 


MR. OLIVER OUTWITS WATCHERS 247 


necessary, if the rancher was to slip back to the depot 
unsuspected. At last the canoe ran alongside with a 
bang and Mr. Oliver dropped on board, while Frank 
nearly upset her as he followed him. Each of them 
seized a paddle and the boy had a momentary glimpse 
of the sloop rolling with her slackened mainsail thrashing 
to and fro, while Harry struggled to haul the jib to 
weather. After that he looked ahead and swung his 
paddle, and as the breeze was blowing on to the beach 
a few quick strokes drove them in through the splashing 
surf. She struck the stones violently, for they had no 
time to be careful, and Mr. Oliver jumped ashore, run- 
ning into the water to thrust her out. Frank contrived 
to twist her around, though it taxed all his strength, 
after which he hazarded a single glance behind him. Mr. 
Oliver had disappeared among the several masses of 
fallen rock and clumps of small growth which were scat- 
tered about the slope. 

So far the plan had succeeded, but Frank had still 
to reach the sloop, which was a different matter from 
paddling ashore. There was a fresh breeze ahead of 
him and a little splashing sea heaved up the canoe’s bows 
and checked her speed. In addition to this, it is a rather 
difficult thing to keep a canoe on a straight course with 
a single-ended paddle, which can only be dipped on the 
one side, and in order to do so one must give the blade 
a back twist, which retards the craft unless it is skillfully 
managed. Frank, who had hitherto practiced it only in 
smooth water, found that the bows would blow around 
in spite of him. He grew hot and breathless, and though 
he set his lips and strung up his muscles he made very 
little progress. 

“ Paddle 1 ” shouted Harry, who had been watching 
his maneuvers. “ Shove her through it ! Can’t you get 
a move on? I can’t run in any nearer without getting 
her ashore.” 

Frank made another desperate attempt, but a splashing 


248 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


sea broke about the bows, driving the canoe off her course 
again, and while he savagely swung the paddle Harry 
surveyed him contemptuously. 

“ Culcha! ” he jeered. “ Guess you loaded that up in 
Boston, but what you want is sand. Can't you get a 
bit of a hustle on? You're sure born played-out back 
East." 

Frank felt a little more blood surge into his hot face. 
This was more than he felt inclined to stand from any 
Westerner of his own weight, but it was clear that he 
could not rebuke his reviler fittingly until he reached the 
sloop and the veins swelled up on his forehead as he 
furiously plied the paddle. Once more a sea broke about 
the bows and this time part of it splashed in, while as 
he tried the back-feather stroke the canoe lurched and 
began to swing around in spite of his redoubled efforts. 
Harry spread out one hand resignedly. 

“ Well," he said, “ it's our own fault for letting you 
into the canoe. The trouble was you couldn’t be trusted 
alone with the sloop either. Pshaw! We've no use for 
folks of your kind in this country.” 

This was intolerable, because part of it was true, and 
Frank felt his heart thumping painfully. But he made 
a last effort, and panting, straining, taxing every muscle 
to the utmost, he drove the canoe ahead, and eventually 
managed to grasp the sloop’s lee rail. He could not 
speak, and as he breathlessly crawled on board Harry 
snatched the rope from him and made it fast. 

“Trim that jibsheet over,” he commanded. 

Frank obeyed him and when they hauled on the main- 
sheet the sloop once more gathered speed, while Frank 
glancing astern saw a strip of slanted sail appear around 
the corner of the head. Then he glanced ashore, and 
though he saw no sign of Mr. Oliver the slope to the 
beach was not remarkably steep and he fancied that the 
rancher would not have much trouble in ascending it. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A FAST RUN 


FTER they had trimmed sail Frank sat still for a 



Jl\ while to recover his breath and, if possible, his 
composure. He felt that it was necessary to demand 
an explanation from his companion. Though they had 
once or twice had a difference of opinion, this was the 
first time that Harry had been insulting, and Frank 
found it impossible to pass over what he had said. When 
he felt able to speak clearly he looked his companion in 
the eyes. 

“ Now,” he began, “ I’ll admit that you can shoot and 
sail a boat rather better than I can, but that doesn’t 
entitle you to talk as you did just now.” 

“ I don’t know if it matters, but I’ve a notion that I did 
shout,” Harry answered calmly. 

“ That only makes it worse,” Frank burst out warmly. 
“You couldn’t call it shouting either. I once heard a 
coyote on the prairie, and it had a much sweeter voice 
than you have.” 

To his astonishment, Harry grinned. 

“ Oh, well,” he said, “ but won’t you get down under 
the mainboom before you go on? I don’t want those 
fellows astern to see there are only two of us on board 
the sloop.” 

Frank did as he suggested, whereupon Harry waved 
his hand and smiled graciously. 

“ Now,” he added, “ you can go ahead.” 

Frank found it harder than he had expected. His 
anger was beginning to evaporate and Harry’s good 
humor was embarrassing. Still, he made another effort. 


250 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“In the first place,” he resumed, “there are just as 
smart and capable folks in Massachusetts as there are 
anywhere else.” 

“ That’s quite right,” assented ' Harry. “ I don’t see 
why there shouldn’t be, but I suppose you’re not through 
yet. You want to call me down?” 

“When you say things of that kind — you — ” Frank 
stammered, and stopped when he observed his companion 
still smiling. 

“ Sure ! ” said Harry, “ I ought to be pounded with the 
boathook if I’d meant them.” 

Frank gazed at him in bewilderment. “You didn’t 
mean them ? ” 

“ No,” said Harry. “ Not a word of it.” 

“ Then why did you say them ? ” 

“ Well,” replied his friend, “ that’s a reasonable ques- 
tion. Now it was mighty important that you should get 
alongside before our friends astern came into sight, and 
though you weren’t making very much progress it seemed 
to me you were doing all you knew.” 

“ I was,” Frank assured him. 

“ Still, I had an idea that if I could make you jumping 
mad you might do a little more. It’s hard to tell what 
you’re capable of until you’re real savage, and I thought 
I’d whip you up a bit where you were most likely to 
feel it.” 

Frank’s indignation vanished, and he changed the sub- 
ject with a laugh. 

“Do you think those fellows suspected anything?” 
he asked. 

“ No,” said Harry. “ They were too busy getting sail 
on her to notice exactly how far ahead we were when 
we ran out of the bay, and it will probably only strike 
them that they’re not quite so far astern as they expected. 
All we have to do now is to lead them along toward 
Bannington’s. I’d rather keep them sailing than have 
them prowling round the depot asking questions and, 


A FAST HUN 


251 


perhaps, sending telegrams, and I’ve a notion we can 
leave them when we like. She’s drawing away from 
them now and we’ve only a small jib on her.” 

His surmise proved correct, for an hour later the 
other boat had diminished to a dusky patch of sail far 
astern. Dusk soon commenced to fall and the wind 
seemed to be freshening, but as they swept around a 
rocky point Harry changed his course and told Frank 
to make a stout rope fast to the bucket and pitch it over. 

“ It will hold her back and let the other fellows come 
up,” he said with a grin. “ They’ll probably figure their 
boat’s faster in any weight of wind, and we don’t want 
to run out of sight of them.” 

It grew dark and for a while the sky was barred with 
heavy clouds until the moon broke out, when they saw the 
pursuing craft sweeping up close astern in the midst of 
a blaze of silvery radiance. She had now, however, a 
mass of canvas swung out on either side of her, and 
Frank wondered what sail she was carrying. 

“ They’ve boomed out a jib as a spinnaker,” Harry 
explained. “ I don’t see why we shouldn’t do the same, 
particularly as it will make them keener on following 
us to Bannington’s. One of them means to go south 
with the steamer if dad gets on to her. Now we’ll heave 
in that bucket, and when it’s done they’ll open their eyes.” 

It was not easy to haul in the bucket. Indeed, once 
or twice it was nearly torn away from them, but at length 
they accomplished the task. 

“ It’s awkward running a boat with a spinnaker unless 
you have a crew,” remarked Harry with a somewhat puz- 
zled look. “ Still, I feel we ought to give those fellows 
a run for their trouble and I can’t get clear of them with 
only the mainsail drawing. A jib set in the ordinary way 
is no use when you’re before the wind.” 

The other boat had drawn almost level with them and 
came surging along some forty yards away, rising and 
falling, with the foam piled up about her bows, and a 


252 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


great spread of canvas that swung up and down as she 
rolled on either side. 

“Hello!” shouted Harry. “Where are you going?” 

“ North,” was the laconic answer. 

Harry chuckled as he turned to Frank. “ Well, as 
dad will be in Everett by this time, I don’t see why they 
shouldn’t come along with us as far as they like, but 
we’ll let them draw ahead before we get up the spin- 
naker. I’d rather they didn’t notice I had to set it 
alone.” 

The other boat forged past them, and she was growing 
dim ahead when Harry pulled out a bundle of canvas 
from beneath the side deck. 

“ It’s an extra big jib we carry in light winds, but it 
makes a good spinnaker,” he said. “ You’ll have to keep 
her straight before the wind, because it’s a mighty awk- 
ward thing to set.” 

Frank took the helm and watched his companion as 
he shook the big sail out all over the boat, after which 
he led a rope fastened to one corner of it through a 
block at the end of a long spar that lay along the deck. 
He thrust this out over her side and made its inner end 
fast 'to the foot of the mast. 

“ A spinnaker boom always goes forward of the 
shrouds and you lead the guy aft outside them,” he said. 
“ Get hold of it and stick fast. It’s easy so far, but in 
a minute the circus will begin. You want two pairs of 
hands to set a spinnaker in a breeze of wind.” 

Frank glanced at the short seas which surged by, glit- 
tering in the moonlight flecked with wisps of snowy froth, 
and it struck him by the way the boat swung over them 
with the foam boiling about her that she was carrying 
sufficient canvas in her mainsail. Then Harry, calling to 
him to mind his steering, hauled on a halliard and a mass 
of thrashing canvas rose up the mast. It blew out like a 
half-filled balloon, lifting up the boom, which was run 
out on the opposite side to the mainsail, and seemed bent 


A FAST RUN 


253 


on soaring skyward over the masthead. After that the 
boom swung forward with a crash, the mast strained and 
rattled, and Frank feared that the great loose sail would 
tear it out of the boat. He saw Harry lifted off his 
feet and flung upon the deck, after which the forward part 
of the boat was swept by flying ropes and billowy folds 
of canvas, among which his companion seemed to be 
futilely crawling to and fro. Presently his voice reached 
Frank hoarse and breathless. 

“ Haul on the guy ! ” he cried. “ She’ll pitch me over 
or whip the mast out if this goes on.” 

Frank dragged at the rope with all his might, but he 
could not get an inch of it in, and he dared not take 
his right hand off the tiller for fear of bringing the big 
mainboom over upon the spinnaker, which would prob- 
ably have caused a catastrophe. Indeed, he fancied 
that one was inevitable already, since it seemed impos- 
sible that Harry could control the big loose sail which 
was now wildly hurling itself aloft. 

“ I can’t move it ! ” he shouted. 

Harry came aft with a jump and grasped the guy. 

“ No\y,” he said, “ together ! Get both hands upon it. 
Hold the tiller with your elbow.” 

For the next half minute there was a furious struggle, 
and as the boom went up again Frank felt that they 
were beaten. His companion, however, hung on des- 
perately, panting hard, and by degrees the boom swung 
down and back across the boat and the sail flattened out. 

“ Make fast ! ” cried Harry breathlessly. “ I can man- 
age the sheet.” 

He floundered forward to the foot of the mast, and 
when he came back the spinnaker was drawing steadily 
and the sloop had changed her mode of progress. She 
no longer rolled viciously or screwed up to windward 
as she lifted on a sea, but swayed from side to side with 
a smooth and easy swing, and Frank could steer her with 
a touch upon the tiller. In spite of that, steering was 


254 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


ticklish work, for the mainboom and the spinnaker boom 
went up and came down until they raked the glittering 
brine alternately, and Frank realized that it would be 
singularly easy to bring one crashing over upon the 
other. There was no doubt that the boat was sailing 
very fast, and he hazarded one swift glance over his 
shoulder at the canoe. She was surging along astern, 
hove up with her forward half out of the water, and 
a seething mass of foam hiding the rest of her. Harry, 
however, glanced forward somewhat anxiously. 

“ That boom’s lifting too much,” he said. “ One of 
us ought to sit on it. Do you feel able to steer her ? ” 

Frank said that he believed he could manage it. 

“ Well,” said Harry, “ if you jibe either sail across 
you’ll either pitch me in or break my leg, even if you 
don’t roll the boat over. Sing out the moment you feel 
her getting too hard upon the helm.” 

Scrambling forward, he crawled out along the spin- 
naker boom, to which he clung precariously, lifted up 
high one moment and the next swung down until his feet 
were just above the foam. Sometimes they splashed in, 
and Frank, bracing himself until every nerve was strung 
up, felt horribly uneasy. In spite of that, the wild rush 
through the glittering water which boiled about the boat 
was wonderfully exhilarating. She seemed a mass of 
straining sail which swayed in the moonlight above an 
insignificant strip of hull half buried in snowy foam. 
Over her black mainsail peak dim wisps of clouds went 
streaming by, and from all around there was a tumult 
of stirring sound — the clamor at' the bows, the swish of 
water as the canoe came charging up to her, and the 
splash of tumbling seas. Everything ahead, however, was 
hidden by the sail, and he was wondering where the 
other boat was when Harry called to him. 

“ Slack the guy a foot or two and let her come up a 
little. Don’t let it get the run of you or you’ll pitch 
me in.” 


A FAST BUN 


255 


Frank was very cautious as he eased the rope out 
around a cleat, after which, when the spinnaker boom 
had drawn forward, he found that he could luff the boat. 
When she had swerved from her course a trifle he could 
see the other boat close ahead, and it gave him some idea 
how fast both craft were traveling. She seemed nothing 
but sail. Indeed, except for the torn-up track of foam 
that marked her passage, she looked much less like a boat 
than some wonderful phantom thing flying at an aston- 
ishing speed across the sea. Swiftly as she sped, how- 
ever, there was no doubt that the sloop was creeping up 
on her, and Frank felt himself quivering all through as 
the distance between them lessened yard by yard. Then 
suddenly the contour of her canvas changed and she 
swung around from leeward across the sloop’s bows. 
Frank’s heart gave a sudden leap as he wondered what 
he must do and his nerve almost deserted him, until 
Harry called again. 

“ More guy I ” he sang out. “ They’re trying to luff 
us. We must keep their weather.” 

Although fearful that it might overpower him, Frank 
slacked the guy out inch by inch, and as the sloop came 
up a little farther he saw the whole of the other boat 
again. The sloop’s bowsprit was level with her quarter. 
She was scarcely a dozen yards away, leaping, plunging, 
swaying through a flung-up mass of foam, but they were 
steadily drawing up with her, and the boy could have 
shouted in the fierce excitement of the moment. Two 
or three minutes later they were clear ahead. He could 
no longer see the other boat, and he dared not risk a 
glance back at her. Indeed, it was a relief to him when 
Harry came scrambling aft. 

“ We’ll get that guy in again,” he said. “ Unless 
something gives out, those folks won’t catch us up.” 

They had a desperate struggle with the guy, but Harry 
laughed gayly when they had made it fast. 

“ They’ll follow us on to Bannington’s, sure,” he said. 


256 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

“ We should be there in half an hour, and I don’t mind 
allowing that I’ll be glad to get some of this sail off 
her.” 

After a while a black bank of cloud spread across the 
moon, and Frank wondered anxiously how much of 
the half hour had gone. He had now only the pull on the 
tiller to guide him as they drove on furiously, and the 
strain of concentrating all his faculties on his task was 
beginning to tell on his strength. Once or twice he 
imagined that he came perilously near to bringing the 
mainboom over, and he would have called Harry to the 
helm if he had felt certain that he could cling to the 
slender lurching spar as well as his comrade could. He 
was getting nervous, and the seething rush of water past 
the boat was becoming bewildering. 

At length, however, he made out a dark and hazy 
mass over the edge of the mainsail, which he supposed 
was land, and in another few minutes a blinking light 
appeared. He called to Harry, who merely twisted him- 
self around on the boom with the object of looking out 
beneath the sail and then told him to keep her heading 
as she was. After that the land rose rapidly, growing 
blacker, and a second light appeared. This was closer 
to them and Frank, thinking he saw it move, noticed a 
green blink beneath it. 

Presently both lights disappeared behind the sail, and 
some minutes later Frank almost let go the tiller as 
the deep blast of a steamer’s whistle rang out close ahead. 
On the instant Harry swung himself down from the 
boom. 

“ Let go your guy ! ” he shouted. “ Down helm ; get 
the mainsheet in ! ” 

Frank could never clearly remember all that followed 
in the next two or three minutes during which he was 
desperately busy. He let the spinnaker guy run, and the 
big sail which heaved up the spar beneath it swung wildly 
forward. Then he shoved down his helm, and the main- 


A FAST BUK 


257 


boom slashed furiously as the boat came up toward the 
wind. The sheet blocks seemed to be banging everywhere 
about him as he hauled at the rope, and he could hear 
nothing but the savage thrashing of loosened canvas. 
Harry was struggling forward with a mass of billowing 
sail that threatened to sweep him off the narrow deck, 
while flying ropes whipped about him. Presently, out 
of the din, there rose another sonorous blast of the 
steamer’s whistle. 

The next moment Frank saw her, heading, it seemed, 
straight for them, blazing with tiers of lights, and in 
almost nerveless haste he pulled up his tiller. The bolt 
fell off, he saw Harry flung down with the spinnaker 
rolling about him, and he scarcely dared to breathe as the 
rows of lights ahead lengthened and the black wedge 
of the steamer’s bows faded from his sight. It was 
now her side he was gazing at, and it was evident that 
she was swinging around. In less than another minute 
she had forged past them, and leaving the helm he 
scrambled forward to aid his companion. For a moment 
they had a brief struggle with flying ropes and billowing 
sail, and then they clambered back into the well, where 
Frank sat down with a gasp of fervent satisfaction. 

“ Well,” he panted, “ I’m glad that’s over, and you had 
better take the helm. I’ve had enough.” 

Harry glanced toward the steamer, which was growing 
less distinct. 

“ A close call ! ” he remarked. “ It looked as if she 
was going slap over us. I couldn’t see her sooner because 
of the sail. She’s running into Bannington’s.” 

They heard her whistle a little later, but they were 
then close in with a shadowy point of land, and looking 
back Frank made out a faint blur on the water far behind 
them which he knew must be the other boat. When 
he pointed it out Harry laughed. 

“ They can’t see us against the land, but I’ve an idea 
they’ll be in soon enough to learn the steamer didn’t 


258 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


pick one of us up/’ he said. “ That will start them won- 
dering why we drove her so hard and where we’ve gone. 
Now you had better get the stove lighted and the supper 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE UNITED STATES MAIL 

T HE boys reached the ranch the next morning, and 
Mr. Oliver, who followed by a different route a 
couple of days later, seemed satisfied with the result of 
his journey. 

“If the dope men leave us alone for the next three 
weeks we’re not likely to be troubled with them after- 
ward,” he said. “ Barclay expects very shortly to be 
ready for what he calls his coup.” 

“ I suppose he didn’t mention exactly when he would 
bring it off ? ” Harry remarked. 

“ No,” said Mr. Oliver with a laugh. “ Barclay usually 
waits until he’s certain before he moves, and he’s not 
addicted to spoiling things by haste. In the meanwhile 
you may as well keep your eyes sharply open.” 

“ Won’t it be awkward to communicate with him if 
you have to go to Bannington’s every time you mail a 
letter?” Frank asked. 

“ That’s a point which naturally occurred to me,” Mr. 
Oliver answered. “ There are, however, reasons for 
believing that Barclay will be able to get over the diffi- 
culty.” 

He said nothing further on the subject, but it cropped 
up again one evening when Mr. Webster arrived at the 
ranch in time for supper. He told them that he had 
finished the bridge he had gone away to build, and when 
they sat about the stove after the meal was over he 
turned to Mr. Oliver. 

“ Have you heard that Porteous has been fired out 
259 


260 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


of the store and they’ve got a man down from Tacoma? ” 
he asked. 

“ No/’ replied Mr. Oliver indifferently. 

“ Anyway, you don’t seem much astonished.” 

Mr. Oliver smiled at this. “ I can’t say I am. What 
was the trouble?” 

“ It’s generally believed Porteous was tampering with 
the mails, and that brings up another thing I want to 
mention. I’m puzzled about it as well as pleased.” 

Harry, unobserved by Mr. Webster, grinned at Frank, 
looking solemn again as his father caught his eye. 

“Well?” said the latter politely. 

“It’s just this,” said Mr. Webster. “When I came 
through the settlement this morning the man who fills 
Porteous’s place gave me a letter. It requested me to 
send in a formal application if I was open to have my 
place made a postoffice and carry the mails for this and 
the Carthew district. They don’t pay one very much, 
but it only means a journey once a week.” 

“ Then what are you puzzled at ? ” 

“ Well,” said Mr. Webster, his eyes bent thoughtfully 
on the fire, “you and the Carthew folks tried to have 
a mail carrier appointed some time ago, and you heard 
that the authorities were,, considering your representa- 
tions. I guess that’s about all they did. They’re great 
on considering, and as a rule they don’t get much 
further. It strikes me as curious that they should give 
you the postoffice now, considering that they wouldn’t do 
it when you worried them for it. The next point is that 
although I applied the other time I don’t know anybody 
in office or any political boss who would speak for me.” 

Frank noticed the smile broaden on Harry’s face, but 
Mr. Webster was intently watching Mr. Oliver, who an- 
swered carelessly. 

“It’s a poor job, one that only a local man could 
undertake, and I don’t know any one else who wants it,” 
he said. “ What are you going to do about it ? ” 


THE UNITED STATES MAIL 


261 


“ Send in the application right away. That's partly 
what brought me over. I'll have to get you and two 
of the boys at Carthew to vouch for me.” 

“ There'll be no trouble about that,” Mr. Oliver assured 
him, after which they changed the conversation. Before 
Mr. Webster went away he asked the boys to spend a 
day or two with him and do some hunting. 

Mr. Oliver let them go at the end of the week, but 
he said that they had better meet Mr. Webster at the 
settlement where Miss Oliver wanted them to leave an 
order for some groceries, and that if any letters had 
arrived for him one of them must bring them across to 
the ranch. They reached the settlement Saturday even- 
ing, soon after the weekly mail had come in. When 
they had finished their supper at the store Mr. Webster 
bundled his mails promiscuously into a flour bag, which 
he fastened upon his shoulders with a couple of straps. 

“ There seems to be quite a lot of letters,” remarked 
Harry as he lifted up the bag. 

Mr. Webster frowned. “ Letters ! ” he growled. 
“ Most of the blamed stuff's groceries. It strikes me 
I'm going to earn my dollars. The boys who run short 
of sugar or yeast powder or any truck of that kind 
expect me to pack it out. Give the thing a heave up. 
There's the corner of a meat can working into my ribs.” 

They set out shortly afterward, following a very bad 
trail driven like a tunnel through the bush, and when they 
had gone a mile or two Mr. Webster lighted a lantern 
which he gave to Frank. 

“ Hold it up and look about,” he said. “ It's some- 
where round here Jardine has his letter box nailed up on 
a tree.” 

Frank presently discovered an empty powder keg fixed 
to a big fir, and Mr. Webster, wriggling out of the 
straps, dropped the bag with a thud. As it happened, it 
descended in a patch of mud. 

“ Hold the light so I can see to sort this truck,” he 


262 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


said, and plunged his hand into the bag. It was white 
when he brought it out. 

“ Something’s got adrift,” he commented. “ They 
never can tie a package right in the store.” 

With some difficulty he at last found the letters, though 
this necessitated his spreading out most of the rest and 
the groceries on the wet soil. Then he deposited those 
that belonged to Jardine in the keg and went on again. 

Dense darkness filled the narrow rift in the bush and 
the feeble rays of the lantern were more bewildering than 
useful, but they covered another two miles before they 
stopped at a second keg, when Webster discovered that 
a couple of letters he fished out were stuck together 
with half-melted sugar. He tore them apart and rubbed 
them clean upon his trousers, smearing out the address 
as he did so. 

“ It’s lucky I looked at them first, because I couldn’t 
tell whose they are now,” he said. “ Anyway, as I guess 
the stuff hasn’t had time to get inside, Steve will know 
they’re his when he opens them.” He raised the bag a 
little and examined it. “ This thing’s surely wet.” 

“ I expect it is,” said Harry. “ The last time you 
stopped you dumped it in the mud. Didn’t they give you 
some sugar for this place at the store ? ” 

“ Why, yes,” said Mr. Webster. “ I was forgetting 
it. Hold the lantern lower, Frank, while I look for it.” 

He pulled the flour bag wider open and presently pro- 
duced a big paper package which seemed to have lost its 
shape. 

“ Half the stuff’s run out,” he added. “ That’s what 
has been mussing up the mail. Pitch this truck out and 
we’ll skip the rest of the sugar out of the bottom of the 
bag.” 

It took them some time to deposit the various bundles 
of letters and packets among the wineberry bushes beside 
the trail, after which Mr. Webster shook a pound or two 
of loose wet sugar into the opened package. It appeared 


THE UNITED STATES MAIL 


263 


to be mixed with flour and other substances, and Harry- 
smiled as he glanced at it. 

“ It’s off its color,” he remarked. 

“ That,” said Mr. Webster, “ will serve Steve right 
and save me trouble. The next time he wants sugar 
he’ll walk into the settlement and pack it out himself. 
When you’ve put that truck back the mail will go ahead.” 

They threw the things back into the bag, but while they 
were engaged in this task Harry held up a bundle of 
letters to the light and separated two of them from the 
rest. 

“ These are dad’s,” he mused. “ It strikes me they’d 
be safer in my pocket.” 

They saw no more powder kegs, but by and by they 
stopped at a ranch where they delivered a newspaper 
and a pound of coffee, and then plodded on in thick 
darkness which was only intensified by the patch of 
uncertain radiance that flickered upon the trail a yard 
or two in front of them. Even this failed them pres- 
ently when Frank fell and dropped the lantern. It went 
out, and neither he nor Harry, who struck a match, 
could open it. 

“ I’m afraid I’ve bent the catch,” said Frank. 

“ It’s not going to matter much,” Mr. Webster an- 
swered. “ I guess we can fix the thing when we reach 
my place, and there isn’t another ranch until we come 
to it.” 

They trudged along in silence for another hour. The 
trail seemed darker than ever, and it was oppressively 
still. Even the great trunks a few yards away were 
invisible, and once or twice Frank walked into the 
bushes that clustered among them. At last, however, 
the sound of running water came out of the gloom and 
grew louder until the boy fancied that there must be a 
rapid creek somewhere below them. Neither he nor 
Harry had been that way before. As they expected to 
get some shooting, he was carrying the double gun, which 


264 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


was beginning to feel heavy, while Harry had brought a 
rifle. When the roar of water had grown so loud that 
they could scarcely hear each other’s footsteps, Mr. 
Webster stopped. 

" There’s an awkward place close ahead, and you had 
better let me go in front,” he warned. " Keep a few 
yards behind and close to the bank on your left side. 
The trail goes down a gulch, and there’s a steep drop 
to the creek.” 

He moved on until the boys could just see his black 
and shadowy figure. The hollow beneath them was 
filled with impenetrable gloom, and they went down cau- 
tiously, trying to follow him and feeling with their feet 
for the edge of the bank on one hand. They had gone 
some little way when Mr. Webster seemed to stagger 
and suddenly disappear. Then there was a crash amidst 
the underbrush, a sound which might have been made 
by a heavy body rolling down a slope, and a hoarse cry 
which was almost drowned by the clamor of the creek. 

The boys stopped abruptly, uncertain what to do. Mr. 
Webster had evidently fallen down the declivity, but 
they could not tell where he was in the darkness, or if 
it was possible to reach him. Frank fancied that if he 
once moved out from the bank he would probably step 
over a ledge and plunge down into the creek, which, it 
was evident, would be of no service to Mr. Webster. 
By and by he was sincerely glad to hear a sound below 
him which seemed to indicate that the man was endeavor- 
ing to clamber up again. On recalling the incident after- 
ward, he decided that they had stood waiting about a 
quarter of a minute. 

"We must get down somehow,” he said to Harry. 

His companion did not answer, but gripped his arm 
warningly. Then to Frank’s astonishment another sound 
rose up somewhere in front of them and a voice followed 
it. 


"Is that you, Webster?” it asked. 


THE UNITED STATES MAIL 


265 


“ Sure ! ” was the answer. “ I’ve pitched right down 
the gulch.” 

Frank would have scrambled forward, but Harry held 
him back. 

“ Hold on ! ” he said softly. “ He doesn’t seem hurt.” 

A crackling and snapping below them suggested that 
somebody was cautiously scrambling through the under- 
growth toward Mr. Webster, while the latter was evi- 
dently crawling up the ascent. Frank wondered why 
Harry had restrained him until a blaze of light sud- 
denly broke out. It showed a very steep bank with 
clumps of brush scattered about it dropping to a foaming 
creek, Mr. Webster holding on by the stem of a stunted 
pine, with the flour bag lying some distance higher up, 
and another figure moving toward him. A third man 
stood on the brink of the declivity holding a blazing 
pineknot. Where the boys stood, however, there was 
deep shadow. 

Mr. Webster, so far as Frank could make out, was 
gazing at the man nearest him in astonishment. 

“ Well,” he said sharply, “ what do you want? ” 

“ The mail,” answered the other. “ Stop right where 
you are ! ” 

Then the meaning of the situation dawned on Frank. 
At that moment he saw Mr. Webster scramble forward 
to intercept the man who was making for the bag. The 
latter, however, was nearer it, and he had crept almost 
up to it while Mr. Webster was still several yards away. 
Without a moment’s hesitation, Frank sprang out into 
the flickering light. 

“ Keep back ! ” he shouted. “ Don’t touch that bag ! ” 

The radiance fell upon the barrel of his gun, and the 
next moment Harry emerged from the gloom with his 
rifle thrust forward. They decided afterward that the 
strangers could only have seen two indistinct figures with 
/weapons in their hands and that there was nothing to 
indicate that they were not grown men. 


266 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“Hold him up!” shouted Mr. Webster, scrambling 
forward furiously as if to seize the man. 

The latter stooped swiftly and made a grab at the bag 
as Frank pitched up his gun, though he kept the muzzle 
of it turned a little from the bent figure, but just then 
Harry's rifle flashed behind him and there was sudden 
darkness as the light fell into a thicket. Confused sounds 
followed the detonation, but it became evident to Frank, 
now quivering with excitement, that three separate per- 
sons were smashing through scrubby undergrowth as fast 
as they could manage. Then one of them stopped while 
the rest went on. 

“ Have you got the bag ? ” cried Harry. 

“ It’s in my hand,” said Mr. Webster. 

They heard him floundering toward them, while the 
other sounds grew fainter, until he emerged from the 
gloom close beside Frank and threw the bag at his feet. 

“ Give me your gun,” he said shortly. “ Stop where 
you are ! ” 

He disappeared again, but in another moment they saw 
him raking in a clump of brush from which a pale light 
still flickered, after which he came back toward them 
with something blazing feebjy in his hand. 

“ Bring the bag, and be careful how you walk,” he 
said. 

When they joined him he was stooping over a short 
strip of wire stretched across the trail about a foot above 
the ground, holding the pineknot so that the light fell 
upon it. 

“ I guess that’s the reason I fell down,” he said. “ You 
didn’t touch that fellow, Harry.” 

“ I didn’t mean to,” was the answer. “ I wanted to 
scare him off, and I was mighty thankful when I saw 
I’d done it.” 

“ Well,” said Mr. Webster, “ I expect that was wiser. 
It would have made things worse for your father if you’d 


THE UNITED STATES MAIL 267 


plugged him. Anyway, they’ve cleared and we may as 
well get on.” 

“Aren’t you hurt?” Frank inquired. 

“ There’s a nasty rip on my leg and my arm feels 
mighty sore, but that’s all the damage. Seems to me 
I haven’t much to complain of, considering how far I 
fell.” 

He flung the pineknot down into the ravine as he 
turned away, and they had crossed the creek and were 
ascending the other side before one of them spoke again. 

“ Did you recognize either of the men ? ” Harry in- 
quired. 

“ No,” said Mr. Webster. “ On the whole I don’t 
know that I’d want to do it, though I’m kind of sorry 
I didn’t get my hands upon the nearest fellow. It was 
those two letters for your father he was after.” 

“ Yes,” said Harry gravely, “ you’re right in that.” 

The trail got narrower presently and when the boys 
fell a little behind Harry laid a hand on Frank’s arm. 

“ I’m not sure that dad and Barclay would have had 
Webster made mail carrier if they had expected this,” 
he whispered. “ There’s no doubt the dope men are 
growing bolder.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


MR. BARCLAY LAYS HIS PLANS 

I T appeared that one of the letters which Harry had 
secured was from Mr. Barclay, and shortly after the 
boys got back to the ranch Mr. Oliver sent them off 
to Bannington’s with the sloop. Mr. Barclay, he said, 
was expected down by the next steamer and they must 
be there in time to take him off. It proved to be an 
uneventful trip and they returned to the cove with their 
passenger just as a gloomy day was dying out. Mr. 
Oliver was shut up with his guest for an hour after 
supper that night, but at length he called the boys into 
his room, where Mr. Barclay lay in a big chair with a 
cigar in his hand. He looked up with a smile when they 
came in. 

“ No doubt you’ll be pleased to hear that we expect to 
round up your dope-running friends before the week is 
out,” he said. “ Anyway, I fancy it was a relief to my 
host.” 

“ There’s no doubt on that point,” Mr. Oliver assured 
him. “ I don’t mind admitting that the suspense and the 
uncertainty as to what they might do were worrying me 
rather badly.” 

Frank was surprised to hear it, for the rancher had 
certainly shown no sign of uneasiness. 

“ You mean you’re going to break up the gang once 
for all and corral the whole of them ? ” he asked. 

“ Something like that,” answered Mr. Barclay lazily. 
“ If there’s no hitch in the proceedings, I don’t expect 
268 


MR. BARCLAY LAYS HIS PLANS 269 


many of them will be left at large when our traps are 
sprung, though the affair will have to be managed with a 
good deal of caution.” 

Harry smiled. “ There oughtn’t to be any hitch. You 
have been a mighty long while fixing up the thing.” 

“ That remark,” said Mr. Barclay, “ is to some extent 
justified. Over in Europe they say ‘ slow and sure,’ 
though I don’t suppose it’s a maxim that’s likely to appeal 
to young America. We’ll paraphrase it into this form: 
‘ Don’t move until you know exactly what you mean to 
do and how you’re going to set about it, and then get at it 
like a battering ram.’ ” 

“A battering ram must have been a clumsy, old-time 
contrivance,” Harry objected. 

“ There are reasons for believing it could strike very 
hard,” said his father with a smile. 

“ It would naturally take a long while to work the 
thing out,” Frank broke in, addressing Mr. Barclay. 

“ It did,” the little, stout man assented. “ We had to 
get hold of a clue here, and another there, and follow 
them up as far as possible without giving anybody the 
least idea what we were after. It might have been more 
difficult if one hadn’t been purposely placed in our hands 
a week ago.” 

“ Somebody has been giving the gang away ? ” asked 
Frank. 

“ That doesn’t quite describe it,” Mr. Barclay an- 
swered. “ To be precise, somebody has sold them. It 
appears that one man a little smarter than the rest dis- 
covered that the gang was being watched. That scared 
him, and, as it happened, he’d had a difference of opinion 
with the bosses about the share he claimed to be entitled 
to. He didn’t point his suspicions out to them, but when, 
as he said, they couldn’t be induced to do the square 
thing he came along to one of my subordinates, who 
sent him to me. I’m not sure that I’d have got much 
information out of him then if I hadn’t been able to 


270 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

convince him that he and his partners were already more 
or less in my hands.” 

Frank was impressed by what he had heard. Indeed, 
he was conscious that he was half afraid of the man who 
sprawled lazily in his chair smiling at him. He appeared 
so easy-going and he had bantered Harry so good-hu- 
moredly, but all the time he had been following up the 
smugglers’ trail with a deadly unwavering patience and 
a keenness which missed the significance of no clue, how- 
ever small. Now when at last the time for action had 
come the boy felt that he would strike in the swiftest and 
most effective manner. 

“If there’s any small part you can give us — ” he 
said hesitatingly. 

“ There is,” said Mr. Barclay, to the delight of Frank 
and his companion. “ It appears that they intend to 
land a parcel of dope and some Chinamen at a place 
down the Straits of Fuca. It will be done at night — 
the moon will be only in her first quarter next week — 
and the schooner will stand out to the westward, keeping 
clear of the traffic to wait for the next evening before, 
going on to the place where she’s to make another call. 
The men and the dope will be seized soon after they’re 
put ashore without anybody on board the vessel being 
the wiser if our plans work out right, but it’s important 
that we should know as soon as possible if anything has 
gone wrong and it will be your business to bring me 
on a message. We’ll have a small steamer and a posse 
hidden ready at this end, and when the schooner runs 
in two nights later she’ll fall into our hands with the rest 
of the gang, who’ll be waiting for what she brings.” 

Frank looked at Mr. Oliver, who nodded his consent. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I’ve promised to let you go, though 
in this case you’ll have to take Jake along.” 

Then Mr. Barclay spread out a chart upon the table 
and pointed first to an inlet which appeared to lie at 
some distance from any settlement.. 


MR. BARCLAY LAYS HIS PLANS 271 


“ You’ll run in here in the dark and lie close in with 
the beach until you’re hailed by a mounted messenger, 
which will probably be early on the following morning. 
When he has given you his message you must manage 
to deliver it to me here ” — he laid his finger on another 
spot on the chart — “at the latest by the second evening 
following. That’s important, as it’s impossible for me 
to get the news by mail or wire.” 

He gave them some further instructions, and half an 
hour had slipped by before he seemed satisfied that they 
knew exactly what they were to do; then he nodded. 

“ I think you’ve got it right,” he said. “ The great 
thing is not to be seen if you can help it, and if it’s 
possible you must only run in at either place in the 
dark.” 

The boys spent the next two days in a state of eager 
anticipation, which, however, became much less marked 
when one lowering afternoon after a long, cold sail they 
beat the sloop out to the westward down the Straits of 
Fuca. They had kept watch alternately with Jake during 
the previous night, throughout most of which it had rained 
hard, and now Frank, who admitted to himself that he 
had had enough sailing for a while, was feeling rather 
limp and weary. He sat beneath the coaming, as far as 
he could get out of the bitter wind. When at last he 
raised his head to look about him, he saw nothing very 
cheerful in the prospect before him. 

The light was dim, the low gray sky to windward 
looked hard and threatening, and a long gray blur which 
he supposed to be land rose up indistinctly over the port 
hand. Ahead dingy, formless slopes of water heaved 
themselves up slowly one after another in dreary succes- 
sion. They were ridged and wrinkled here and there, 
and now and then a little wisp of white appeared on 
one of them, for the long swell of the Pacific was work- 
ing in. The breeze was very moderate as yet, and each 
time the sloop sluggishly swung up her bows and lurched 


"272 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


over one of the undulations her mainboom jerked and 
lifted amidst a harsh clatter of blocks, while the water 
inside her went swishing to and fro. The noise presently 
aroused Jake, who was sitting silently at the helm. 

“ One of you had better get her pumped out/’ he said. 
“ You haven’t done it since we started, and you won't 
find ft easy by and by.” 

“ It doesn’t look nice up yonder,” said Harry, glancing 
windward. 

“ It’s either blowing hard in the Pacific or going to 
do it, and we’ll get it presently. I’d be better pleased 
if we were nearer that inlet. It’s eight or nine miles 
off, and the wind’s dead ahead.” 

“ The dope men would rather have a black, wild night, 
wouldn’t they?” suggested Frank. 

“ They’re going to be gratified,” Harry answered sig- 
nificantly. 

Frank, glad to do something to warm himself, set to 
work at the little rotary pump, and a stream of water 
splashed and spread about the deck, which slanted and 
straightened irregularly. He was still busy when Jake 
called to him. 

“ You can let up and get that jib off her. Strip it 
right off the stay. We’re not going to have any use for 
a sail of that kind. Get out the small one, Harry.” 

“ There’s no wind to speak of yet,” Harry protested. 

“ Well,” said Jake grimly, “ you’ll have plenty before 
you’re through.” 

Harry dragged up the small sail, and when Frank had 
lowered the larger one they proceeded to strip it off the 
stay. It took them some little time, but Frank, glancing 
at the slowly heaving, leaden water, fancied that there 
was no need for haste until as he and his companion 
bundled the canvas off the deck Jake called to them. 

“Up with that jib!” he ordered. “Get a hustle!” 

They had the halliard in their hands, and the sail was 
half set, when it blew out suddenly and there was a sharp 


MR. BARCLAY LAYS HIS PLANS 273 


creaking. The sloop slanted over wildly and a curious 
humming, rippling sound broke out to windward. Glanc- 
ing around a moment Frank saw that the swell was grow- 
ing white, and a rush of cold wind nearly whipped his 
cap away. Then jamming his feet against a ledge with 
the deck sloping away beneath him he struggled furiously 
to hoist the jib, while disjointed cries reached him from 
the helmsman. 

“ Heave ! ” Jake roared. “ I can do nothing with her 
until you have it set 1 ” 

They got the sail up somehow, though by the time they 
had finished the sloop’s lee rail was in the sea, and then 
flung themselves upon the mainsail. They were breath- 
less with the effort before they had tied two reefs in it, 
and Frank wondered at the change in their surroundings 
when at length he sat down in the well. 

The sea, which had run in long and almost smooth 
undulations before they began to reef, now splashed and 
seethed about the boat, and each big slope of water was 
seamed with innumerable smaller ridges. Bitter spray was 
flying thick in the air, water already sluiced about the deck, 
and it was disconcerting to recollect that they were still 
eight miles from the inlet. This would not have mattered 
so much had it not lain dead to windward, which meant 
that they must fight for every yard they made. 

There was shelter to lee of them. They could put up 
the helm and run, but though they were wet through in 
a few minutes they braced themselves for the struggle, 
while the savage blast screamed about them and the omi- 
nous sound Frank had noticed — the splash of waves that 
curled and broke — came more loudly out of the gather- 
ing gloom ahead. Though his physical nature shrank 
from the task before him Frank would not have chosen 
to go back. It was a big thing they were taking a hand 
in, the climax which all their previous adventures had 
led up to, and he recognized that they must see it through 
at any cost. 


274 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


At last he was playing a man’s part, acting in close 
cooperation with the Government of his country, and 
Mr. Barclay, who had elaborated the scheme with infinite 
patience and foresight, counted upon him and his com- 
rade. That they should fail him now was out of the 
question, but Frank was glad that Jake sat at the tiller. 
Harry was quick and daring, but he was young, and in 
this fight there was urgent need for the instinctive skill 
which comes from long experience. The helmsman’s 
stolidness was more reassuring. He gazed up to wind- 
ward, gripping the tiller, with the spray upon his rugged 
face, ready for whatever action might be necessary. 
Loud talking and an assertive manner were of no service 
here ; what was wanted was raw human valor and stead- 
fast nerve. It was fortunate that Jake, who was tranquil 
and good-humored, possessed both. 

Darkness shut down on them suddenly as they thrashed 
her out to westward full and by, lurching with flooded 
decks over the charging seas. Their whitened tops broke 
over her, her canvas ran water, and every other minute 
she plunged into a comber with buried bows. The comb- 
ers, growing rapidly higher, broke more angrily, and 
her progress changed into a series of jerks and plunges, 
which at times threatened to shake the spars out of her. 
Frank could see the black mainsail peak above him swing- 
ing madly up and down, and it seemed at times that half 
her length was out of the water, which was not improb- 
ably the case, for the foam upon her hove-up deck poured 
aft in cascades over the low coaming and splashed about 
their feet. By and by, for she was shallow-bodied like 
most centerboard craft, it began to gather in a pool which 
washed to and fro across the floorings in her lee bilge, 
and at a shout from Jake he started the pump. It needed 
no priming, for as soon as he unscrewed the covering 
plate the sea ran down, and there was now nothing to 
show what water it flung out, because half the lee deck 


MR. BARCLAY LAYS HIS PLANS m 


was buried in a rush of gurgling foam and the combers' 
tops broke continuously over the bows. 

Still, the work roused and warmed him, and he toiled 
on, battered and almost blinded by flying brine, while 
he wondered how long the boat would stand the pressure 
of her largely reduced sail. He did not think they could 
tie another reef in, because it seemed certain that some- 
thing must burst or break the moment a rope was started. 
Besides, even had it been possible, reefing was out of 
the question. Their harbor lay to weather, and a boat 
will not sail to windward in a vicious breeze unless she 
is driven at a speed which is greater than the resistance 
of the opposing seas. 

They thrashed her out for two anxious hours, since 
it appeared doubtful that she would come round and a 
failure to stay her would be perilous in the extreme, 
but at last Jake called to the boys. 

“ We’ve got to do it somehow,” he said. “ Stand 
by your lee jibsheet and tail on to the mainsheet the mo- 
ment you let it run. Hold on till I tell you. We’ll 
wait for a smooth.” 

A smooth, as it is termed by courtesy, is the interval 
that now and then follows the onslaught of several unusu- 
ally heavy seas, and at length as the boat swung up with 
a little less water upon her deck Jake seemed satisfied. 

“ Now ! Helm's a-lee ! ” he shouted. 

They let the jib fly, and jumping for the mainsheet 
hauled with all their might, while Jake helped them with 
one hand as the boat came up to the wind. Then as a 
comber fell upon her they sprang back to the jibsheet and 
hauled upon it, while the spray flew all over them. It 
struck Frank that if the boat did not come round there 
would very speedily be an end of her. While he watched, 
holding his breath, the bows swung around a little farther, 
and working in frantic haste they let the sheet fly and 
made fast the opposite one, which was now to lee. She 


276 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


forged ahead on the other tack — and the most imminent 
peril was past. 

It was two hours later when they raised the land again, 
and though one or the other of them had pumped con- 
tinuously the water was splashing high about their feet. 
Jake had, however, made a good shot of it, for he recog- 
nized a ridge of higher ground marked upon the chart, 
and they drove in toward it, battered, swept, and stream- 
ing. Frank felt strangely limp when at length they ran 
into smoother water, and Jake made one significant re- 
mark. 

“ We’re through,” he said, “ but if we’d had to make 
another tack it would have finished her.” 

The black land grew higher until they could make out 
masses of shadowy pines, and eventually dropping the jib 
and peak they ran her in behind a point with very thank- 
ful hearts and let go the anchor. Half of their task was 
finished, and they could take their ease until morning 
broke. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE DERELICT 

T HE wind freshened after they reached shelter and it 
blew very hard. For a time Frank found sleep im- 
possible, though he was glad to lie snug in the warm cabin 
with the lamp burning above him and the stove snapping 
cheerfully. The sloop lurched and rocked, drawing her 
chain tight now and then with a bang, while a muffled 
uproar went on outside her. Frank could distinguish the 
angry splash of water upon her bows and the drumming 
and rapping of loose ropes against the mast, though these 
sounds were partly drowned by the furious clamor of the 
ground sea beyond the point and a great deep-toned roar- 
ing made, he supposed, by long ranks of thrashing trees. 
Once or twice, when Jake, who crawled out to see if the 
anchor was holding, left the slide open, the sound filled 
the cabin with tremendous pulsating harmonies. 

Besides this, the boy’s face smarted after the lashing of 
icy spray, and he wondered whether Mr. Barclay’s plans 
were working out successfully and what fresh adventures 
awaited Harry and himself on the morrow, all of which 
was sufficient to keep him in a state of restless expecta- 
tion. He envied his companion who presently went to 
sleep, but it was toward morning when at last his own 
eyelids closed and he got a few snatches of fitful slumber 
broken by fantastic dreams. He was awakened by a chill 
upon his face, and looking around saw that Jake had 
gone out again into the well. The roar of the wind did not 
seem so overwhelming as it had been, though there was 
no doubt that it was still blowing hard. By and by Jake 
called out. 


277 


278 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ You’d better get up/’ he said. “ I’ve a notion that 
there’s somebody hailing us.” 

Frank crawled out shivering, with Harry grumbling 
half asleep behind him, and when he stood in the well 
found he could see a hazy loom of trees across the little 
white waves that came splashing toward the boat. They 
made a sharp, rippling sound, pitched in a different tone 
from the din that rose all around. The latter swelled 
and sank, and he was slightly surprised when he was 
able to hear what seemed to be a faint shout. It rose 
again more clearly, and there was no longer any doubt 
that somebody on the beach was hailing them. 

“ Can we get ashore ? ” he asked. 

“ You’ll have to try,” said Jake. “ The man’s to 
windward of us, and it will be a stiff paddle, but if you 
can’t manage it you’ll blow across to the beach on the 
other side of the inlet safe enough and he may be able 
to get round to you. Anyway, I don’t want to leave 
the sloop. She’d have picked up her anchor once or 
twice if I hadn’t given her more cable.” 

“ What time is it ? ” Harry inquired. 

“About seven o’clock,” Jake answered. “We’ll have 
daylight soon after you’re back.” 

They hauled up the canoe and were not surprised to 
find that she was full of water. It took them some time 
to bail her out, and Frank felt anxious when at last they 
pushed her clear of the sloop. It was difficult to tell 
how far off the beach was, and for the first few moments 
they could make no progress against the blast. Then 
they won a yard or two in a partial lull, and after that 
for a while barely held their own by determined paddling. 
Thick rain drove into their faces and the spray from the 
bows and splashing blades blew over them. Frank was 
breathless when they reached the beach, and it cost him 
an effort to scramble over the uneven stones as far as 
the edge of the bush, where a shadowy figure stood 
beside a horse. Its head drooped and even in the dark- 


THE DERELICT 


m 


ness, which was not very deep, its attitude was sug- 
gestive of exhaustion. The man was dimly visible, and 
they felt sure that he was the messenger they expected. 

“ You’re here on Barclay’s business ? ” he said. 

“ Yes,” said Harry. “ Have you a message for him ? ” 

The man fumbled in his pocket and took out an en- 
velope. 

“ That’s from the boss. I guess it will explain the 
thing, but he said I’d better let you know that we’d had 
trouble.” 

“ Then you didn’t get the dope men ? ” 

“ We corralled three of them ; the rest broke away. 
One of the boys got a bullet in him and he’s been lying 
in the rain all night. I don’t know how we’re going 
to pack him out.” 

“ Things went wrong?” said Frank. 

“ They did,” the man assented. “ One of the boys got 
his pistol off by accident just after the boat had come 
ashore, and that gave our plans away. The boat’s crew 
shoved off and several men who’d been landed broke 
through in the dark. Anyhow, when the trouble was 
over we’d got one case of dope, two whites of no account, 
and a Chinaman.” 

“And the schooner?” 

“ She was heading out to sea with mighty little sail 
on her when I left. You’ll be able to take word through 
to Barclay?” 

“ I don’t know,” Harry answered dubiously. “ It’s 
too dark to tell what the sea’s like now. I suppose there’s 
no other means of warning him?” 

“ No,” said the man. “ Even if I could get a message 
on to the wire they wouldn’t be able to deliver it at the 
other end, but he has to be warned somehow.” 

“If you’ll come off we’ll give you breakfast. It 
should be light enough to see what the weather’s like 
by the time you had finished,” Harry suggested. 

“ It can’t be done,” was the answer. “ I’ve to go on 


280 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


for a doctor and raise a crowd to run those fellows down. 
I've already stayed longer than I should.” 

“ Your horse is played out,” Frank objected. 

“ I’ll hire another. There’s a ranch somewhere ahead. 
I’ll say you have taken that message.” 

“ We’ll do it if it’s any way possible,” said Harry. 

The man turned away without another word and they 
heard him stumbling through the wood beside his horse 
until the roar of the wind drowned the sound, after 
which they went back to the canoe. They had no trouble 
in reaching the sloop, for they were driven down upon 
her furiously, and on clambering on board they found 
that Jake had breakfast ready. 

It was daylight when they crawled out of the cabin 
after the meal, but the sky was hidden by low-flying 
vapor, and gazing seaward they could see only a short 
stretch of big leader combers which rolled up out of 
the haze crested with livid froth. Jake shook his head 
doubtfully at Harry. 

“ You’ll have to stop a while,” he said. “ She wouldn’t 
run for half an hour before that sea. We couldn’t 
start till after dinner if the wind dropped right now, but 
it’s falling and we might get away in the afternoon.” 

The morning dragged by while the boys chafed at 
the delay, though they had no doubt that Jake was right 
and neither of them felt any keen desire to face the 
sea that was tumbling in from the Pacific. Still, the roar 
of the wind steadily diminished and the sloop rode more 
easily, and at length Jake offered to make the venture 
after they had had a meal. 

They lashed three reefs down before they started, 
leaving only a small triangular strip of mainsail set, but 
that proved quite enough, and during the first few min- 
utes Frank felt almost appalled as he glanced at the great 
gray combers that heaved themselves up astern. Most 
of them were hollow breasted, and their tops curled over, 
flinging up long wisps of foam and roaring ominously. 


THE DERELICT 


281 


As a rule they broke, divided, on either side of the boat, 
piling up in a snowy welter high about her shrouds, but 
now and then one seemed to break all over her and most 
of her deck was lost in a furious rush of water. Twice 
the canoe, which was too big to stow on deck, charged 
up and struck her with a resounding crash, and then 
broke adrift and disappeared. 

By degrees, however, Frank’s uneasiness diminished. 
Somewhat to his astonishment, the light and buoyant 
craft stood the buffeting, and by the time dusk fell the 
seas were getting smaller. Still, they were big enough, 
and the boat appeared to be driving before them at an 
extraordinary speed. By eight o’clock in the evening 
they had shaken out one reef, and soon afterward Frank 
lay down in the cabin, because Jake said that he had no 
intention of entrusting either him or Harry with the helm, 
which was on the whole a relief to both of them. To run 
a small craft before a breaking sea in the dark is a very 
severe test of nerve, and it is, perhaps, worse when the 
combers still come foaming after her after the wind has 
somewhat fallen. 

In spite of the violent motion Frank managed to sleep 
until he was awakened some time after midnight by a 
shout from Jake. Crawling out, partly dazed, with his 
eyes half open, he saw that the sky had cleared and that 
a crescent moon was shining down. Then, close ahead 
of them, he saw the schooner. 

She was also running, for her stem was toward them, 
though for a moment or two it was hidden by the white 
top of a sea, and Frank could only make out the forward 
half of her sharply tilted deck. Her bowsprit and two 
torn jibs above it were high in the air, and her black 
boom-foresail all bunched up, with its gaff, which had 
swung down, jammed against the foremast shrouds. She 
carried no after canvas, and the reason became evident 
when, as her stern lurched up, Frank saw that her main- 
mast was broken off short. She sank down again while 


282 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


a comber foamed high about her rail, which was shat- 
tered on one quarter where the falling mast had struck, 
and a mass of canvas and tangled gear trailed in the sea 
beneath it. What struck the boy most, however, was the 
erratic manner in which she was progressing, for her 
bows swung up to windward every now and then until 
all her side was visible and she lumbered off at angle 
to her course and then came lurching back again. She 
was herringboning, as it is called at sea, in an extraor- 
dinary fashion, and she seemed low in the water. 

In the meanwhile the sloop was coming up with her 
fast and Jake stood up at the tiller to see more clearly. 

“ They’ve been in trouble, sure,” he said. “ I could 
tell there was nobody at her helm when I first saw her 
and that's why I ran up so close. Ease the peak down, 
one of you ; I don’t want to run by until we’ve had a look 
at her.” 

Harry did so, and as they stood watching her the 
schooner slued round until she was almost beam to 
wind. The sea streamed down her weather side, which 
rose up like a wall, and Frank could see her wheel behind 
the low deckhouse jerking to and fro. There was no 
sign of life anywhere on board her. 

“Deserted!” Jake said shortly. “They must have 
jibed her and smashed her mainmast. She seems a 
smart vessel. Seems to me she ought to fetch a good 
many dollars.” 

The sloop was sailing more slowly now with her peak 
swung down, keeping pace with the schooner but a little 
behind her, and the boys gazed hard at Jake. His 
rugged face looked very thoughtful in the moonlight. 

“ It’s a fair wind to the islands and she’d come up 
until it was abeam with the foresail set if it was nec- 
essary,” he said. “ It wouldn’t be much trouble to sail 
her in and she could be beached somewhere in smooth 
water. Anyhow, I’d like to get on board her.” 

“ If you ran up close alongside when she screws to 


THE DERELICT 


283 


windward one of us could jump,” Harry suggested 
eagerly. “ There’s a raffle of ropes over her quarter.” 

Jake seemed dubious. “ It might be done and Bar- 
clay would be uncommonly glad to get his hands on her, 
but I can’t leave the sloop. Somebody has to take that 
message.” 

“ Put us on board,” urged Harry. “ How far is it to 
the islands ? ” 

“ With this wind and the whole sail on her she ought 
to fetch them by daylight.” Then Jake seemed to hesi- 
tate. “ Looks as if there was water in her, but one 
could wear her round and fetch the land to south- 
ward if she was leaking very bad.” 

The boys looked at each other and the same impulse 
seized upon both of them. This was an adventure such 
as they had never dreamed of, and with a fair wind they 
would only have to keep the vessel running until they 
picked up the land. It would not be difficult, for she 
was under very easy sail, and the only hazard would be 
in the attempt to get on board her. Then Harry jumped 
forward and hauled up the peak. 

“ Run alongside as quick as you can,” he said. 

Jake put down his helm a little, and the boys stood up 
on the weather deck with tense, set faces as the sloop 
crept in under the schooner’s lea. The latter slued 
to windward while the spray flew over her, rolling until 
her deck on the side nearest them was level with the sea, 
and then fell off again and sluggishly heaved her bows 
high above the foam. This herringboning was the 
danger, since it would need nerve and skill to get near 
her without wrecking the sloop. A blow from the big 
lurching hull would probably send her to the bottom. 

Frank felt himself quivering all through as they closed 
with the derelict yard by yard, until when she once more 
lumbered round to windward Jake put down his helm a 
little farther. The sloop shot in beneath the black hull, 
which broke the sea and partly sheltered her, but as she 


284 , BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


swept forward amidst a long wash of foam Frank’s 
courage ebbed away from him. A great white swell 
lapped about the wall of wet planking close in front of 
him, and the top of it was higher than his head. It 
seemed impossible that he could spring out from the 
lurching sloop and by any means clamber up. All his 
senses shrank from the dangerous task, but with a 
determined effort he braced himself. If Harry made the 
attempt he would do it, too, and he clenched his hands 
and set his lips as the schooner’s side came sinking down. 

“ Don’t jump unless you are sure you can reach her! ” 
shouted Jake. 

They were now scarcely a fathom from the trailing 
wreckage, and the schooner’s rail was dipping lower. It 
seemed just possible to clutch it by a desperate leap, 
and the next moment Harry launched himself out into 
the air. Frank followed, struck the wet planking, and 
seizing a trailing rope held on by it with his legs in the 
sea. Then he dragged himself up clear of the water, and 
Harry, who was kneeling in the opening in the broken 
rail, reached down to him. 

Frank clutched his hand, and in a few more seconds 
was almost astonished to find himself, breathless and 
dripping, safe upon the schooner’s deck. A glance 
showed him the sloop abreast of her quarter and about 
a dozen yards away. 

“ Jake did that mighty smartly,” Harry gasped. “ I’ll 
get to the wheel while you look around her.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


A GRIM DISCOVERY 

F RANK had some difficulty in getting about the 
vessel. She was rolling wildly and loose ropes and 
blocks whipped blindly to and fro, but he noticed that 
the boat had gone, and the cleanly severed shrouds 
indicated that her mainmast had been cut loose after it 
had fallen over the side. It was evident that the crew 
had made some attempt to save the vessel before they 
abandoned her. The mainboom had disappeared, though 
the broken gaff and part of the sail were still attached 
to the hull by a mass of tangled gear. Scrambling for- 
ward he found the anchor lying still hooked to a tackle 
and half secured with its arms upon the rail, which sug- 
gested that the smugglers had sailed in haste and had 
been kept too busy afterward to make it fast. It was 
reassuring to discover that the anchor could be dropped 
without much trouble if this became necessary. Then he 
came upon a lantern hooked beneath the forecastle 
scuttle and went back to report to Harry. The latter, 
who was standing at the wheel, listened to him atten- 
tively. 

“ Well,” he said at length, ** I can’t figure out the 
thing, and unless some of the dope men explain it I don’t 
think we’re likely to be much wiser. As Jake said, it 
looks as if they had jibed her by accident, which would 
probably rip out the mainmast, but, although it’s easy to 
bring the mainboom over on a fore-and-aft rigged craft, 
it’s mighty seldom that a capable sailor does it. Then, 
as there’s water in her, they must have bumped her on a 
285 


286 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


reef, though she could only have struck once or twice 
before she drove over it. That’s as far as I can get, and 
the first thing is to find out what water there is below. 
It’s fortunate you have a lantern.” 

Frank looked around. There was no doubt that the 
wind was falling, and the schooner, having only part of 
her forward canvas set, steered easily. The sloop, which 
had sheered off a little farther, was sailing abreast of her 
with lowered peak about a hundred yards away, rising 
and falling with the long combers which, however, broke 
less angrily. 

“ Jake will stand by for three or four hours,” Harry 
explained. “After that he’ll have to haul her up to 
make the inlet where we were to join Barclay, but it will 
be close on daylight by then.” 

Frank was glad to hear it. There would be some 
peril in getting on board the sloop if that became nec- 
essary, but it was comforting to see her close at hand. 
In the meanwhile he shrank from going below and made 
no move to do so until Harry spoke again. 

" I’m anxious about that water and you had better get 
down,” he said. “ Go in by the house ; there’ll probably 
be a lazaret below it with an opening in the deck.” 

Frank reluctantly scrambled forward around the 
house, the door of which faced toward the bows, and 
being out of the wind there he contrived to light the 
lantern, though he struck several matches in the attempt. 
The house, which occupied most of the vessel’s quarter, 
was low so that the mainboom could swing over it, and 
it was evident that the cabin floor was sunk some feet 
below the level of the deck. Frank thrust the door open 
and then stood hesitating, holding up the lantern, which 
did not burn well and only flung a faint light into the 
obscurity before him. He could hear an ominous gurgle 
of water below when the schooner rolled and made 
out three or four steps which seemed to lead down into 
it. As he placed his foot on the first of them the vessel 


A GRIM DISCOVERY 


287 


lurched wildly and he went down with a bang, while the 
lantern flew out of his hand. For no very evident 
reason, except that he was overstrung, he could have 
shouted in alarm as he lay upon the wet flooring in the 
dark. He had struck his knee in his fall and for a 
moment or two he feared to move it. 

Then he noticed a pale reflection against what he sup- 
posed to be the bottom of a seat, and as it was evident 
that the overturned lantern had not quite gone out he 
crawled toward it. As he did so the splash and gurgle 
of water seemed much louder than it had done on deck. 
He could hear it surge against the sides of the vessel and 
the hollow sound jarred upon his nerves. He longed to 
escape from the oppressive obscurity and get out into the 
moonlight by his companion’s side, but he reflected that 
it would not be pleasant to tell Harry that he had run 
away from the darkness and left the lantern. He de- 
termined to secure the latter, and he was moving toward 
it on hands and knees when his fingers struck some- 
thing that felt like a pistol. He let it lie, however, and 
stretched out his hand for the lantern, setting it up- 
right. The flickering flame grew brighter, and stand- 
ing up he flung the uncertain light about him. There 
was undoubtedly a revolver on the uncovered floor, 
which was dripping wet, and he thought it curious that 
the smugglers should have left the weapon lying in that 
position; but ever since he had boarded the schooner 
he had been troubled by an uncomfortable sense of 
strangeness. The fact that her crew had abandoned her, 
apparently without a sufficient reason, suggested a mys- 
tery. Then he raised his hand so that the radiance 
touched a little, clamped-down table, and as it did so he 
started and came near dropping the lantern again, for a 
man sat at the table with his head and shoulders rest- 
ing upon it as if he had suddenly fallen forward. 

Frank afterward confessed that his first impulse was 
to run toward the door, and he was never quite certain 


288 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


why he did not do so, but he stood still holding up the 
lantern, while his heart throbbed painfully and his 
flesh seemed to creep. The bent figure was unnaturally 
still, but when the schooner lurched and the table 
slanted it fell forward a little farther, all in one piece 
— which was how he thought of it — and as a heavy 
sack would have done. That was too much for Frank, 
and clambering up the steps he ran back to Harry in 
breathless haste. 

“ You look as if something had scared you,” said the 
latter with a trace of anxiety in his voice. 

Frank leaned against the house, and his face showed 
white and set in the moonlight. 

“ There’s a man lying across the table in the cabin,” 
he panted. 

Harry started, but he pulled up his helm a spoke or 
two. 

“ She’ll come up if I leave her, but that won’t matter 
much,” he said. “ We’ll go back together.” 

Frank felt a little easier now that he had a compan- 
ion, and he was more collected when he stood in the 
cabin holding up the light while Harry, who called first 
and got no answer, walked cautiously toward the hud- 
dled figure. Then he shrank back a pace or two. 

“ The man’s dead ! ” he said. 

After that neither of them moved for half a minute 
during which the deck slanted wildly beneath them, and 
then Frank proceeded very reluctantly toward the table. 
Harry followed him, and when they stooped over the 
shadowy figure Frank caught a partial glimpse of a 
yellow face and saw that the man wore a loose blue 
jacket. 

“ Turn the light a little,” said Harry in a low, hoarse 
voice, and when Frank had done so he looked around at 
him. 

“ It’s the man we got dinner with the day we went up 
the creek. He’s been shot,” he added. 


A GRIM DISCOVERY 


2&9 

Once more the horror of the thing was almost too 
much for Frank, but just then a furious thrashing of 
loose canvas and clatter of blocks broke out above them 
and relieved the tension. 

“ She's luffing with the sea on her quarter," said 
Harry. “ I must get back to the helm, but we’ll wait 
a moment and look around first. Lower your lantern. 
There’s something on the floor — no, I don’t mean the 
pistol, though you can pick that up.’’ 

He stooped down beside Frank, who held the lantern 
close to the wet planking, and saw for the first time a 
broad wet stain upon it leading toward the steps. That 
was enough for both of them, and saying nothing fur- 
ther they scrambled toward the door. They did not 
stop until they reached the wheel, and then Harry spent 
a few moments getting the vessel before the wind again. 

“ We’re no wiser about the water yet," he said at 
length with a strained laugh. 

“ No," said Frank. “ I didn’t think about it — I only 
wanted to get out as quick as I could." He broke off, 
and then added, “ What do you make of it ? ’’ 

Harry stretched out one hand for the pistol, opened it, 
and held it up in the moonlight. 

“ There’s a shell still in," he said. “ The man it be- 
longed to must have dropped it in a mighty hurry. It’s 
clear that there was a row on board her either before or 
after she lost her mast. That Chinaman had a bullet 
through his head and somebody else was hurt, though 
he got out of the house — the stains showed that. I 
wonder " — and he dropped his voice — “ if we ought to 
search the forecastle." 

“ I’m not going down," Frank answered decisively. 

“ Well," said Harry, “ I don’t feel like it either. 
That’s the simple fact." 

Again there was silence for a while and both were 
glad that the solid end of the house stood between them 
and what lay in the cabin. Then Frank roused himself. 


290 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ We’ve forgotten about the water, but the hatch is 
smashed,” he said. “ I expect they dropped the boat 
upon it in heaving her out. I might get down that way.” 

“ You had better try,” said Harry, glancing around 
and pointing to the sloop, which was now nearer them. 
“ Jake must have edged her in when he saw the schooner 
come up with no one at the helm,” he added. “ It’s nice 
to feel that he’s about.” 

Frank agreed with him. Once more he found the 
sight of the sloop curiously reassuring, but he scrambled 
forward, and, wriggling through a hole in the broken 
hatch, clambered partly down a beam. There was water 
below him, but there was less than he expected, and he 
could not hear any more pouring in, though he recog- 
nized that this would have been difficult on account of 
the gurgling and splashing that was going on. After 
listening for a minute or two he went back to Harry. 

“ There’s a good deal of water in her,” he said. 
“ Hadn’t we better heave some of it out ? ” 

“ I don’t think it would be worth while,” was Harry’s 
answer. “ You could hardly work the pump alone, and 
if I left the helm she’d keep running up into the wind 
and yawing about. I’d rather shove her along steadily 
toward the land.” 

“ Then can’t we get the foresail properly set and drive 
her a little faster?” Frank inquired. “She ought to 
bear it now the wind’s dropping.” 

It was not only the leak' that troubled him. He 
wanted to escape as soon as possible from the horror that 
seemed to pervade the vessel, and his companion eagerly 
seized upon the suggestion. 

“ Why, of course ! ” replied Harry. “ I might have 
thought of it, but I’ve been kind of dazed since we got 
out of the cabin.” 

They went forward and led the halliards to the winch, 
but they would have had trouble in setting the partly 
lowered sail if the schooner had not come up into the 


A GRIM DISCOVERY 


291 


wind and relieved the strain on it. By degrees they 
heaved up the gaff and peaked it, after which they went 
aft, as the vessel plowed faster over the falling sea. 

“ Now,” said Frank, “ the question is, where are we 
heading for ? ” 

“ I’ve been worrying over that while we set the sail,” 
Harry responded. “If we hauled her up right now we 
might, perhaps, fetch the inlet where we arranged to join 
Barclay, but we’d have to jibe the foresail over, and as 
I would have to keep the helm while I brought her round 
and you wouldn’t be able to check the sheet alone, it’s 
very likely that something would smash when the boom 
came across. Besides that, we’d have a strip of rocky 
coast to lee of us presently, and we mightn’t be able to 
keep her off it with only the foresail set. On the other 
hand, so far as I can recollect from looking at the chart, 
the islands are dead to leeward and we’d only have to 
keep her running to reach them. There’s a sound where 
we’d find smooth water once we sailed her in. That 
would be the wiser plan.” 

Frank, concurring in this, sat down near the helm. 
He felt that he would not like to go far away, and he 
remembered that night watch long afterward. 

The moon crept on to the westward, getting lower, and 
now and then flying clouds obscured the silvery light. 
The combers still came surging after them crested with 
glittering froth, though they no longer broke about the 
rail, and there was a constant gurgling and splashing of 
water inside the lurching vessel. At last Jake jibed the 
sloop’s mainsail over and stood away from them. The 
moon was very low now and Frank grew somewhat 
uneasy as he watched the boat’s canvas fade into the 
creeping gloom. Shortly afterward the moon dipped 
altogether and it was very dark. 

“ We can’t be far off the land,” said Harry. “ I don’t 
want to come up with it before daylight, but with no 
after canvas on her I don’t suppose we could round her 


m BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


up and wait. If ( we did, I’m not sure we could get her 
to fall off again — one of the jibs is torn to ribands and 
the other’s split. We’ll have to keep her running.” 

They drove on and presently a faint gray light crept 
across the water to the east. A little later, when all the 
sky was flushed with red and saffron, a long black smear 
cut sharply across the glow. 

“ The first of the islands,” announced Harry. “ It’s 
right abeam. We must get some foresail sheet in.” 

They had difficulty in doing so, though they led the 
sheet to the winch, but the schooner came up closer 
afterward, and when the sun had climbed above a bank 
of cloud the end of the island was rising before them and 
a strip of water opening up beyond it. Half an hour 
later they ran in with the foresail peak lowered down, and 
Frank gazed anxiously ahead as they drove on more 
slowly up a broad channel. On one hand there were 
rocks and scrubby pines, with larger trees behind, but he 
wondered what the result would be if a reef or a jutting 
point lay in front of them. The vessel’s speed, however, 
grew slower still, the water became smoother, and at last 
Harry looked around at him. 

“ If you’ll unhook the tackle and cut the lashing you 
ought to get the anchor over,” he remarked. “ I’ll luff 
her as far as possible and you’ll heave the thing off 
when I drop the foresail .” 

There followed a clatter of blocks, and a furious rattle 
of running chain, which presently stopped. Then as 
the swinging vessel drew her cable out they toiled des- 
perately at the windlass to heave up more of it from 
below. The task was almost beyond their strength, but 
somehow they managed it and Harry clapped on a chain 
stopper. 

“ That should hold her,” he said. “ There’s not much 
wind now. I’d be glad to leave her if I could get 
ashore.” 

This, however, was out of the question, since the 


A GRIM DISCOVERY 


canoe had gone, and very much against their will they 
waited on board for several hours until at length a trail 
of smoke arose above the pines. Then a little steamer 
with foam about her bows appeared from behind a point 
and the hoot of her whistle rang sharply across the 
water. 

“ Barclay, sure ! ” said Harry. “ I’m certainly glad to 
see him.” 

A few minutes later Mr. Barclay climbed on board 
and went down into the cabin and all over the vessel with 
them before he made any remarks. At length he turned 
to the boys as they stood by the rail. 

“ You have done a very smart thing and I don’t think 
you’ll have any reason for regretting it,” he said point- 
edly. “ This is a good set-off against the failure at the 
other end. Jake got in with the message and we started 
as soon as I’d had a talk with him. Fortunately, we 
were able to creep along through the sounds and it’s 
scarcely likely that any of the smugglers can have seen 
us.” 

“But what has become of this vessel’s crew?” Frank 
asked. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Mr. Barclay. “ We’ll prob- 
ably ascertain something about them later.” 

“Do you expect to corral the rest of them to-night?” 
Harry broke in. 

“ It’s possible,” said Mr. Barclay with a trace of dry- 
ness. “ The first thing, however, is to beach this vessel, 
and then you and Jake must get off in the sloop. There’s 
a good deal to be done, and I want to run the steamer 
back out of sight up the inlet as soon as it can be 
managed.” 

He called some of his companions on board, and when 
Frank and Harry sat down to an excellent meal in the 
steamer’s cabin they heard the men heaving the 
schooner’s anchor. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE RAID 

D AYLIGHT was breaking when the boys ran into 
the cove near the ranch after a quick passage and 
saw Mr. Oliver standing on the beach. 

“ I’ve been looking out for you rather anxiously,” he 
said when he had shaken hands with them. “ Has 
Barclay been successful?” 

“ No,” said Plarry, “ not altogether. Some of the 
dope men got away at the first place where they landed.” 

Mr. Oliver looked rather grave at this. “ How many 
of them escaped?” 

“ I don’t know exactly. The messenger said several. 
Besides, the crew of the schooner abandoned her, and it 
seems likely that they got ashore. That would make two 
parties who may have joined each other.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Mr. Oliver ; “ it’s a pity in various ways ! 
How did Barclay get on at the other end ? ” 

“ I can’t tell you. He didn’t expect to make the seiz- 
ure until night when the dope men’s friends would be 
waiting for the schooner to run in, and he sent us off in 
the afternoon.” 

“ It was wise of him,” Mr. Oliver answered. “ In the 
meanwhile your aunt hasn’t cleared breakfast away, and 
as I expect you’re ready for it we’ll go in at once.” 

During the meal they gave him an outline of their 
adventures, to which he listened thoughtfully. Then he 
said : 

“ You had better lie down and get a sleep. We’ll have 
another talk about it later on.” 

294 ? 


THE RAID 


295 


“ I think I’d rather work,” said Frank. “ We got 
some sleep in turns last night, and I don’t feel like lying 
down. The fact is,” he added hesitatingly, “ we’ve been 
doing something or other so hard since we went away 
that I don’t think I could leave off all at once. I feel 
strung up yet and I’d rather keep busy.” 

Mr. Oliver smiled understandingly. “ That’s sensible. 
There’s nothing as good as your regular work for cooling 
you off and helping you to get calm again ; but if you like 
you can take a note over to Webster and you needn’t 
hurry back if he asks you to have dinner with him. 
Then there are two or three stumps you may as well grub 
out.” 

They set out soon afterward and Frank, for one, was 
glad of the walk. He had been cramped on board the 
sloop, and the excitement of the last few days had told on 
him. He was nervously restless and felt that it would 
be useless to lie down until he was physically worn out. 
When he mentioned it to Harry the latter confessed to a 
similar sensation, and added that they had not yet fin- 
ished with the dope men. 

Mr. Webster was at work in his clearing when they 
reached it, but he walked with them to his house, drop- 
ping Mr. Oliver’s note into the stove as soon as he read 
it. 

“ You’ll have dinner before you go back and tell your 
father I’ll come along,” he said. ‘‘Would you like to 
take that single gun with you, Frank? Harry still has 
the other one.” 

Frank said that he would be very glad, but his com- 
panion broke in : 

“ What did dad ask you to come over for ? ” 

“ He wasn’t very precise,” answered Mr. Webster 
evasively. “He’ll probably tell me more when I’m at 
the ranch.” 

As it was evident that he did not mean to be com- 
municative, they ate their dinner without asking any 


296 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


further questions, but when they were walking home 
through the bush Harry smiled at his companion sig- 
nificantly. 

“ What do you make of the whole thing? ” he asked. 

“ I don’t know,” said Frank. “ Your father looked 
troubled when he heard the dope men had got away.” 

“ He did,” assented Harry. “ Then he sent over for 
Webster, who wouldn’t tell us what he was wanted for, 
though he made you take that gun along.” 

Frank knitted his brows. 

“ Well,” he said thoughtfully, “ it’s only an idea of 
mine, but it’s possible that the fellows who escaped 
might make an attack upon the ranch out of revenge. 
Now if we allow that the schooner had been driving along 
before the wind for some time after she was abandoned — 
and several things pointed to it — one would fancy that 
the men who left her must have landed not very far 
from the spot where Barclay’s men tried to seize them. 
It seems to me the first thing they’d do would be to 
attempt to join the rest so as to be strong enough to 
resist a posse sent out to hunt them down. It would 
be clear that somebody had given them away and they’d 
no doubt blame your father. Of course they suspected 
him already.” 

“ You’ve hit it,” said Harry, whose face grew stern. 
“If they come along there’ll be trouble, but we’ll make 
some of it. I don’t feel kind to the dope men after that 
sight in the schooner’s cabin.” 

Frank thought that his companion wore very much 
the same look as his father had done on the morning 
when he stood beside the fallen horse with the smoking 
pistol in his hand. 

“ I expect they’ll be desperate now,” he said, but 
Harry did not answer, and they walked on a little faster. 

On arriving at the ranch they set about grubbing up 
the stumps and managed to get one big one out during 
the few hours’ daylight that remained, but neither of them 


THE RAID 


297 


were sorry when Miss Oliver called them in to supper. 
Frank, however, stood still a moment or two, glancing 
about him and leaning upon his grubhoe. There was 
not a breath of wind stirring, and the firs rose in dense 
shadowy masses against a soft gray sky. The light was 
fading off the clearing, the rows of stumps had grown 
blurred and dim, and it was impressively still. The 
whole surroundings looked very peaceful; one could 
imagine them steeped in continual tranquillity, but Frank 
remembered the broken mower and became vaguely un- 
easy. Besides, he could not get the scene in the schoon- 
er’s cabin, where the dead man lay fallen forward across 
the table, out of his mind. Then Miss Oliver called 
him again, and making an effort to throw off this ex- 
ceedingly unpleasant train of thought he strode quickly 
toward the house. 

They sat about the stove after supper, and Frank 
fancied that Mr. Oliver was listening for something 
now and then, but for a while no sound rose from the 
clearing. He made the boys give him a few more par- 
ticulars about their adventures. 

“ What do you suppose Barclay meant when he said 
tffat we would not be sorry we had brought the schooner 
in ? ” asked Harry. 

“ Well,” his father replied, when he had considered a 
moment, “ the vessel was abandoned when you fell in 
with her. If she had been employed in a legitimate 
trade you could have enforced a claim for your services 
and you would have had no difficulty in getting a large 
share of her value. The affair, however, is complicated 
by the fact that she was engaged in smuggling, because, 
while I don’t know much about these matters, I’m in- 
clined to believe that would warrant the revenue author- 
ities in either seizing her altogether or holding her as 
security for a heavy fine. Still, even in this case, you 
should have a claim and I’ve no doubt that Barclay will 
look after your interests.” 


29a BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ Have you any idea what our share would be ? ” 
Frank asked eagerly. 

“ I could only make a guess. As she seems to be a 
comparatively new vessel and is probably in good repair 
except for the damage she received on the night in 
question I think you could hold out for two thousand 
dollars. It's quite possible that she only started a plank 
or two, and a new mainmast wouldn’t cost a great deal.” 

“Two thousand dollars!” and Frank gasped with 
astonishment. 

“ I believe the award depends upon the value of the 
services rendered and the hazard incurred,” Mr. Oliver 
answered with a smile. “ There seems very little doubt 
that the vessel would have gone to the bottom if you 
hadn’t fallen in with her, and I expect any arbitrator 
would admit that in running alongside and getting on 
board her in a heavy sea you did a dangerous thing. 
Jake, of course, would take a share, though his would 
be a smaller one than yours; but Barclay will be able 
to tell you more about it than I can. We must get his 
advice as soon as possible.” 

Shortly afterward Mr. Webster arrived carrying a 
rifle, and Frank observed that Mr. Oliver was glad to 
see him. They, however, only discussed fruit growing 
and the price of stock, and when by and by the boys 
became drowsy Mr. Oliver told them that they had 
better go to bed. 

The boys were about to withdraw to their room, when 
Harry had a sudden thought. 

“ Where’s the dog ? ” he asked. 

“ In the stable,” said Mr. Oliver dryly. " We have 
kept him there the last few nights.” 

It occurred to Frank that this had been done as a 
precaution, since the stable and barn stood close together 
at some little distance from the house, but Harry made 
some careless answer and they turned away toward their 


THE RAID 


299 


room. When they reached it Harry sat down on his 
bed and his face looked grave in the lamplight. 

“ Dad’s expecting trouble,” he said. “ You noticed 
that all the guns were laid handy and there was a lot 
of shot as well as rifle shells spread out loose on the 
shelf.” 

“ Do you think the dope men will come to-night ? ” 

“ I can’t say. I wouldn’t be astonished if they did. 
Anyhow, I’m dead played out and we can go to sleep, 
because dad and Webster mean to sit up all night. I 
don’t know whether you noticed that the coffee pot was 
on the stove and dad had his cigar box out.” 

Frank had not noticed it, but he had already discovered 
that in some matters his companion’s eyes were sharper 
than his own. He, however, made no comment, for a 
heavy weariness had seized him at last and he was glad 
to get his clothes off and go to bed. He was soon asleep 
and some hours had passed when he felt Harry’s hand 
upon his shoulder. Raising himself suddenly, he looked 
around. The room was very dark, and he could hear 
nothing until a door latch clicked below and he fancied 
that he heard stealthy footsteps outside the building. 

“You had better get up and dress as quick as you 
can,” said Harry. “ That’s Webster crossing the 
clearing. Dad slipped out a minute or two before 
him.” 

Frank scrambled into his clothes and followed Harry 
to the window, where they leaned upon the ledge. There 
was no doubt that somebody was moving away from the 
house, because they could hear the withered grass rustle 
and now and then the faint crackle of a twig, but they 
could see nothing except the leafless fruit trees and the 
black wall of bush shutting in the clearing. 

Then a savage growl that sounded dulled and muffled 
broke out from the stable, and Frank felt a little quiver 
run through him. The sound died away and he found 


300 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


the heavy silence that followed it hard to bear, but a 
few moments later the dog growled again and then broke 
into a series of short, snapping barks. 

“If he gets loose somebody’s going to be sorry,” said 
Harry with a harsh, strained laugh. Then he gripped 
Frank’s arm hard. “ Look yonder ! ” 

A yellow blaze suddenly leaped up beside the barn and 
grew brighter rapidly, until Frank made out a man’s 
black figure outlined against it. He seemed to be throw- 
ing an armful of brush or withered twigs upon the 
spreading fire, and Frank swung around toward his com- 
panion. 

“ Hadn’t we better shout or run down ? ” he asked. 

“ Wait,” said Harry shortly. “ Dad’s already on that 
fellow’s trail.” 

He was right, for while the figure bent over the fire 
a thin streak of red sparks flashed out from among the 
fruit trees and the crash of a rifle filled the clearing. 
The man leaped back from the fire, ran a few paces 
at headlong speed, and vanished suddenly into the shadow. 

“ He’s not hurt,” Frank said hoarsely. 

“ Then it’s because dad didn’t mean to hit him,” Harry 
answered. “ That was a warning.” 

“ He doesn’t seem to be going to put out the fire.” 

“ No,” said Harry with the same strained laugh, “ dad 
knows too much for that. Those logs are thick, they 
won’t light easy, and it’s only a little pile of small stuff 
that’s burning. Dad has no use for standing out where 
those fellows can see him unless it’s necessary. In the 
meanwhile the dope men don’t know where he is and 
that’s going to worry them.” 

Frank could understand this. It seemed very likely 
that the small fire would bum out before the logs caught, 
and it was clear that the men who had made it could 
not run back into the light to throw on more brushwood 
without incurring the .hazard of being shot. On the 
other hand, Mr. Oliver would have to face the same peril 


THE RAID 


SOI! 


if he approached to put it out. From this it seemed very 
probable that both he and the dope men would wait to 
see what the result would be. 

In the meanwhile the crash of the rifle had had a 
curious effect on Frank. It was the first time that he 
had ever seen a shot fired in anger and he was sufficiently 
well acquainted with Mr. Oliver’s character to feel cer- 
tain that if the warning failed to prove efficacious the 
next bullet would not go wide. He felt his nerves tingle 
and caught his breath more quickly, for it seemed 
highly probable that he might be shortly called on to 
watch or, perhaps, take part in some horrible thing. He 
did not mean to shirk it, but at the same time he was 
conscious that he would have greatly preferred to be 
standing beside the schooner’s wheel while she lurched 
over the big foaming seas. 

The suspense became almost intolerable as he watched 
the fire, which presently sank until at last only a feeble, 
flickering blaze was left. Then a figure sprang out of 
the shadow and ran toward it carrying something in its 
arms. The next moment there was another crash in a 
different part of the clearing from where they had heard 
the first shot, and the figure, dropping its burden, van- 
ished suddenly. 

“ That’s Webster,” said Harry dryly. “ I’m not sure 
that he meant to miss.” 

In the meanwhile the savage barking of the dog, whom 
they had scarcely noticed during the last few moments, 
once more forced itself upon their attention. 

“ Why doesn’t your father let the dog get. after them ? ” 
Frank asked. 

“ I don’t know,” Harry answered. ** It’s possible he’d 
rather not have them routed out from among the trees. 
If it were only daylight we could stand them off! Have 
you your watch?” 

Frank took it from his pocket and rubbed a sulphur 
match in nervous haste. It went out and he struck 


302 BOX RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


another with quivering fingers. A pale glow of light 
sprang up and he held the watch close against it. 

“ Only four o’clock ! ” he announced. “ There’ll be 
more than three hours’ darkness yet.” 

Harry made no answer, and except for the barking 
of the dog there was silence for a minute or two. It 
was Frank at last who broke it. 

“ I can’t stand any more of this,” he said. “ Let’s 
go down.” 

His companion seemed to hesitate. “ It’s not nice, 
but I don’t know what to do. Aunt’s in the house, and 
though Jake’s on the lookout somewhere I’ve a notion 
that dad would call us if he meant us to come.” He 
broke off and added in a very suggestive tone, “ I don’t — 
want — to stay in.” 

“We could go as far as the door, anyway,” Frank 
persisted. 

They slipped out of the room and made for the kitchen 
very quietly, but Frank was a little astonished when 
they reached it, because though there was no lamp burn- 
ing the front of the stove was open and the faint glow 
which shone out fell upon Miss Oliver who was sitting 
close by. A rifle lay upon the table at her side and 
Jake’s shadowy figure showed up near the open window. 

“ Where are you going, Harry ? ” she asked. 

Harry stopped and leaned upon the table. “ Out into 
the clearing a little way. After that, I don’t know. I 
don’t want to spoil dad’s plans by butting in before it’s 
necessary, but I wish he’d told us what to do. You 
won’t mind if we go?” 

“I’ve Jake — and this,” Miss Oliver answered, quietly 
pointing to the rifle. “ On the whole I think I’d just 
as soon you tried to find out what is going on, but keep 
out of sight while you’re about it and be cautious.” 

They slipped out, and when they stopped at a short 
distance from the house Frank touched his companion. 

“Can she shoot ? J ’ he asked. 


THE RAID 


303 


“ It’s my opinion that she’d beat you at it every time,” 
said Harry curtly. 

He raised his hand as though to demand silence, and 
they both stood listening, but there was deep silence 
now, for the dog had ceased to bark. It was difficult 
to imagine that somewhere in the shadowy clearing there 
were a number of men watching with every sense alert. 

“ I think the first shot came from the other side of 
the fruit trees. We’ll look in among them,” said Harry. 

Treading very softly, they made for the trees, which 
were young and had shed their leaves, but their trunks 
and branches, massed in long rows, offered concealment. 
They would not entirely cover up the figure of any one 
standing among them, but they would break its outline, 
which is almost as effective since, as Frank had already 
learned, it is singularly difficult to recognize an object 
when one can only see a part of it. Besides, the sky 
was overcast and there was no moon visible. 

The boys walked a few steps and stopped again to 
consider. It was as still as ever, and there was nothing 
to guide them in deciding where Mr. Oliver or Mr. 
Webster might be, while they recognized that any noise 
they made would probably be followed by a rifle shot. 
The smugglers and ranchers would naturally be listen- 
ing for the least sound that might betray each other’s 
presence. The first incautious movement would there- 
fore lay either party open to attack, and Frank could 
understand the smuggler’s hesitation in making another 
attempt to burn the barn, since, apart from any noise 
they made, the figure of the man who started the fire 
would be forced up clearly by the light. Indeed, he 
fancied that so long as the two men kept still their 
opponents must do the same. 

In the meanwhile he found it singularly difficult to 
crouch in the grass waiting and listening. It would 
have been much easier to move forward, even at the 
hazard of drawing the smuggler’s fire upon himself, 


304 , BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


but as this was out of the question he restrained the 
desire to do so by an effort of his will. To hasten 
an attack would interfere with Mr. Oliver’s plans, and 
there was no doubt that the odds against the rancher 
were already heavy. Frank, however, could not keep 
his heart from thumping painfully or his fingers from 
trembling upon the gun barrel. Never had time seemed 
to pass so slowly. 

Several minutes dragged by and still no sound rose from 
the surrounding fruit trees or shadowy clearing. It 
almost seemed as if Mr. Oliver and his opponents meant 
to lie motionless until the morning, which Frank realized 
was a good deal more than he could force himself to do. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE RELIEF OF THE RANCH 

T HE silence was becoming unendurable when it was 
suddenly broken by two sharp, ringing crashes in 
quick succession. Though Frank was afterward ashamed 
of it, he fairly jumped and came very nearly dropping 
his gun. While he was struggling with an impulse to 
fire at random into the darkness there was an answering 
bang and he felt a tug at his elbow. 

“ I think it was Webster who fired first,” said Harry 
in a low, tense voice. “ If I’m wrong, it means that 
the dope men have got in between us and the house, 
but that isn’t likely. Dad would have heard them and 
made a move if they’d tried it.” 

Frank said nothing, and when the echoes died away 
among the woods there was once more a nerve-trying 
silence, except for the savage barking of the dog. It 
lasted a few minutes, and then Harry spoke again : 

“ The shots will be quite enough to put dad on to 
those fellows’ traiL I expect he’s crawling in on them 
now.” 

The boy’s whisper was hoarse with anxiety, but he 
made no attempt to move and Frank wondered at his 
self-command. Shortly afterward there was an unex- 
pected change in the situation, for a faint flicker of light 
shot up again from where Frank supposed the barn to be. 
This was puzzling, because, while the light was rather 
high up and there seemed to be a brighter blaze beneath 
it, Frank could not see the fire. Then the explanation 
flashed upon him as the black shape of the building 
$05 


306 BOY RANCHERS OE PUGET SOUND 


became dimly visible against the uncertain glow. The 
smugglers had lighted a second fire behind the barn, 
which now stood between them and Mr. Oliver. Frank 
gasped with dismay as he realized that it was a simple 
and effective trick. If the rancher moved forward 
hastily he must betray himself to his enemies by the 
noise he made, while if he proceeded slowly and cau- 
tiously the barn would probably take fire before he 
reached a spot from which he could drive back the men, 
who were no doubt piling up brushwood against the 
building. 

“ It looks as if they'd got us ! ” he whispered. 

“ No," said Harry sharply and aloud. “ The thing 
didn’t strike me, but dad’s not to be caught like that. 
Now, as any row we make will draw them off him, we’ll 
hurry up. Get up and run." 

Frank did so, but although he had been longing to 
do something of the kind a few minutes earlier he found 
that he had no great liking for the part Harry expected 
him to play. It was decidedly unpleasant to feel that 
in all probability he was fixing upon himself the atten- 
tion of several men who could shoot very well. He 
had gone only a few paces, however, when there was 
a shot from behind the barn and Harry laughed — a 
breathless laugh. 

“ That’s dad. He’s headed them off again ! " he said. 

Frank ran on, but thrilling as he was with excitement 
it occurred to him that this battle was a rather intricate 
one, in which he was right. These bushmen were accus- 
tomed to hunting and trailing, and did not rush at each 
other’s throats, shouting and firing more or less at ran- 
dom. Instead, they seemed to be maneuvering for posi- 
tions from which they could prevent their opponents 
from making another move. Nowadays, in any battle 
large or small, in which men are engaged who can handle 
the terrible modern rifle, the position is the one essential 


THE RELIEF OF THE RANCH 307 


thing, since it is only the most desperate courage that can 
drive home an attack upon a well-covered firing line. 

Soon after the boys had heard the shot a shadowy 
figure slipped out from among the fruit trees close in 
front of them and Frank called, “ Webster ! ” 

The man swung around, but instead of answering he 
sprang backward, and Frank realized that he had almost 
run into the arms of one of the smugglers. The boys 
did not see where he went, though he made some noise, 
and they afterward concluded that he had mistaken 
them for grown men. In the meanwhile they went on 
again more cautiously, until at length they were stopped 
by a low cry and Mr. Oliver rose from the grass a few 
feet away. They were on the other side of the barn 
now and could see that the fire had got hold of it. 
There was no doubt that some of the logs were burning 
and a pile of brushwood which had been laid against 
them was burning fiercely. 

“ It’s spreading,” said Harry. “ Can’t we put it out ? ” 

“ No,” said his father with grim quietness. “ It would 
take time and at least a dozen wet grain bags, while 
it wouldn’t be safe for any one to approach the light.” 

There was something in his voice that startled Frank. 

“ You have hit one of them?” he asked. 

“ There’s reason for believing it. Webster and I 
couldn’t watch the four sides of the barn, and they chose 
the one that seemed the most unlikely. Still, as it hap- 
pened, I got around quick enough.” 

“ Then what are we to do now ? ” Harry inquired. 

“ Fall back on the house,” replied Mr. Oliver. “ I’ve 
sent Webster on, and it’s no use waiting for another of 
them to come out into the light.” 

The boys turned back with him, moving quickly but 
making no more noise than they could help, and on 
reaching the dwelling they found Mr. Webster standing 
in the kitchen. The room was dark except for the faint 


SOS BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


glow which shone out from the front of the stove, and 
Miss Oliver was still sitting where the boys had last 
seen her, with an open box of cartridges at her feet. 
There was, however, light enough outside, for a red 
glare which grew steadily brighter streamed across the 
clearing. 

“ Where's the dog? ” Harry asked. 

“ I don’t know,” said Mr. Webster. “ I let him out 
before I came along. I expect you're going to hear him 
presently.” 

There was silence for the next six or seven minutes 
during which Frank heard the ticking of a clock and 
the crackle of knotty pinewood in the stove. He could 
see Mr. Oliver standing a little on one side of the open 
window, an indistinct figure with face and hands that 
showed dimly white. His pose indicated that he was 
holding a rifle level with his breast, and presently as 
the red glow behind the fruit trees grew higher and 
brighter the barrel twinkled in a ray of light. Then 
there was a furious barking and Jake laughed at the 
sound. 

“ Well,” he said, “ they don’t mean to keep us wait- 
ing.” 

Mr. Oliver turned to the boys. “ Keep clear of this 
window and watch the other one. You're not to 1 fire 
a shot unless I tell you.” 

The barking of the dog grew louder and it was evi- 
dent that the animal was following the smugglers toward 
the house, but Frank could see nobody for a while. 
Then he made out two or three moving shadows among 
the fruit trees, but they vanished again as the light sank, 
and he almost wished that they would spring out from 
cover and make a rush upon the building. Fie could 
imagine them creeping stealthily nearer and nearer, and 
the strain of the forced inaction became nearly unbear- 
able. He learned that night that it is often a good deal 
easier to fight than to wait. 


THE RELIEF OF THE RANCH 309 


At last a harsh voice rose from the gloom. 

“ You’ll have to get out, Oliver,” it said. “ Clear out 
in your sloop with the folks you have with you and we’ll 
let you go. You’re mighty lucky in getting the option.” 

“And what about the ranch?” Mr. Oliver asked.- 

“ We’ll tend to it,” another man answered pointedly. 
“ Pitch your guns through the window and come out 
right now 1 ” 

“ You’re wasting time,” replied Mr. Oliver, “ I’m go- 
ing to stay.” 

“ Then you’ll certainly be sorry,” some one else broke 
in. “ We’ve had about enough trouble right along with 
you and we’ve come to hand in the bill. You headed 
us off a good trade, you brought the revenue folks in, 
and we mean to get even before we leave. Just now 
we’ll be satisfied with your homestead, but that won’t 
be enough after the next shot’s fired.” 

It was a grim warning and what made it more im- 
pressive to Frank was the fact that he could not see the 
man who uttered it. So far, the smugglers had only 
revealed their presence by their voices. The next mo- 
ment there was a cry of pain or alarm and a rifle flashed. 

“ Kill that blamed dog,” somebody ordered with an 
oath. 

Then Mr. Oliver called to Harry, who had gone to 
the window across the room. 

“ Can you see anybody on that side ? ” he asked. 

“ No,” was the answer. “ I think they’re all in front.” 

Mr. Oliver turned to Jake. “ Slip out through the 
back window with the boys and work around to the 
stumps. From there you’ll have those fellows clear 
against the light. Wait until the shooting starts — and 
then do what you can.” 

“ Sure ! ” was the short answer, and Jake crossed the 
room. 

Harry had already dropped from the window, and 
Frank promptly followed him, feeling relieved now that 


310 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 

he had something definite to do. Circling around through 
the fruit trees they reached the first row of stumps, one 
end of which ran up rather close to the house. As 
Frank crouched down among the roots of one he saw 
the smugglers. There were six or seven of them visible 
along the edge of the trees, though he fancied that there 
were more of them farther back in the shadows, which 
grew thinner and then more dense again as the light 
rose and fell. Still, before the men could reach the house 
they would have to cross a clear space where the glow 
was brighter, which they were evidently reluctant to do. 
Their hesitation was very natural, since they had dis- 
covered that their opponent was unusually quicksighted 
and handy with the rifle. 

A few moments after the boys reached the stumps a 
great blaze shot up as part of the barn fell in, and Frank 
saw a man who seemed to be the leader of the gang 
run forward, heading toward the back of the house. As 
he did so Frank recognized him and Harry cried out 
softly, for one of the runner’s shoulders was higher 
than the other and he had a rather curious gait. Then 
there was a shout from one of those behind. 

“ Plug the brute ! Look out for the dog ! ” 

A low and very swift shadow flashed across the open 
space behind the man. Harry laughed hoarsely as the 
man went down and rolled over with an indistinct object 
apparently on his back. He cried out, there was a con- 
fused shouting, and some of his companions came run- 
ning toward him, showing black against the light. Frank 
held his breath as he watched. He expected to see two 
flashes from the window, since Mr. Webster and Mr. 
Oliver had now an easy mark, but they did not fire. 
The next moment he shrank in sudden horror, for the 
cries grew sharper and suggested pain and an extremity 
of fear. Then he felt that, regardless of the hazard, 
he could almost have cheered the smugglers on as they 
ran toward the prostrate man, who was struggling vainly 


THE RELIEF OF THE RANCH 811 


with the furious dog. They surged about him in a con- 
fused group, and just then, to Frank’s amazement, a 
pistol flashed among the firs on the edge of the bush. 
It was followed by a sudden clamor, whereupon the 
group broke up, and running men streamed out across 
the clearing. The smugglers vanished, and Harry sprang 
out from among the stumps shouting wildly. 

“ It’s Barclay ! He’s brought a posse with him ! ” he 
cried. “ Come on. We must choke off the dog.” 

When they reached the spot they tried with all their 
might to drag back the furious animal. The man, who 
had flung his arms about his throat and face, now lay 
still, with the big and powerful animal still tearing at 
him. It was not until Jake arrived and partly stunned 
it with his rifle butt that it let go, and then two or three 
breathless strangers came running up to them. They 
dragged the smuggler to his feet and Frank saw that his 
jacket was torn to pieces and that the back of his neck 
from which it fell away was red. He did not seem 
capable of speaking and he drew his breath in gasps, 
but the newcomers hustled him along between them to- 
ward the house. 

“ Stick to him,” said Harry. “ He’s the boss of the 
gang.” 

They thrust the man into the kitchen, where he fell 
into a chair and, for the lamp was lighted now, gazed 
at Mr. Oliver stupidly. 

“Well,” he said, “I’m corralled — my gun’s in the 
clearing.” He raised his hand to his neck and brought 
it down smeared red before he added, “ It’s mighty 
lucky he didn’t get hold in front.” 

Mr. Oliver, who made no answer, swung around and 
faced Mr. Barclay standing hot and breathless in the 
doorway smiling at them. 

“ It’s fortunate I came along,” he said, and striding 
forward glanced at the man in the chair. “We’ve got 
you at last.” 


312 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ Sure ! ” admitted the other, still in a half-dazed man- 
ner. “ I’ll have to face it — only keep off that dog.” 

Mr. Barclay looked around at Mr. Oliver. “ I expect 
the boys have also got most of his partners. Before we 
broke cover I sent a party to head them off.” 

Harry suddenly called to Frank, who sprang toward 
the door, but when they reached the bush they met the 
rest of the men coming back with several prisoners. 
They reported that two or three had escaped and they 
would have to wait for daylight before following their 
trail. 

Half an hour later the boys sat down again in the 
kitchen where Mr. Oliver and Mr. Barclay, who had 
been out in the meanwhile, were talking by the stove. 

“ I’d an idea that these fellows might look you up, 
which was why I came along as fast as I could manage,” 
Mr. Barclay was explaining. “ I think I told you we 
got practically every man who was waiting for the 
schooner at the inlet, and the two or three who escaped 
to-night won’t count. In the meanwhile I’d arranged 
at two or three different places to seize everybody we 
suspected of having a hand in the thing, and if the boys 
I left that work to have been as lucky as we are we 
can take it for granted that we have put an end to the 
gang. There’s enough against the fellow the dog mauled 
to have him sent up for the rest of his life.” He broke 
off and turned to the boys. “ The schooner will be sold 
by auction, and if you are inclined to leave the matter 
in my hands you can give me a written claim for salvage 
services.” 

“ How much should we put down ? ” Harry asked. 

“ I would suggest three thousand dollars,” responded 
Mr. Barclay with twinkling eyes. “ It doesn’t follow 
that you’ll be awarded the whole of it, but it’s generally 
admitted that one shouldn’t be too modest in sending 
in a claim. If you two become partners you could buy 
a ranch.” 


THE RELIEF OF THE RANCH 313 


Harry turned with a smile to Frank. “ Well,” he said, 
“ if you’re willing, we might consider it in a year or 
two.” 

Then one of the men came in to report that the prison- 
ers had been secured in the stable. Mr. Barclay soon 
dismissed him with a few brief instructions and sat down 
again, lighting a cigar. 

“ I don’t know that there’s much more to tell,” he said. 
“ When we were a mile or two off the cove we saw the 
blaze of your barn, and that gave us an idea of what 
was going on. We sent the steamer along as fast as 
she could travel, but I broke my posse up to surround 
the clearing as soon as we got ashore. Then we lay 
by and waited so as to get as many of the gang as pos- 
sible. They were too busy watching you to notice any 
little noise the boys made, and on the whole I think we 
can be content with this night’s work.” 

“ Have you decided what led up to the shooting of 
that man in the schooner’s cabin ? ” Harry asked. 

“ That,” said Mr. Barclay, “ is a matter for the crim- 
inal court, but I’ve made a few investigations, and my 
notion is that the fellows lost their nerve when it became 
evident that somebody had given them away. They sus- 
pected one another, and that led to trouble, while I’ve 
no doubt that the Chinaman held most of the secrets of 
the gang. He’d be a particular object of suspicion, but 
from what I can gather there was a general row during 
which she jibed and got ashore. There was, at least, 
one other man badly hurt, but they seem to have gone 
off in the same boat. The vessel probably struck on 
an outlying reef and came off almost immediately on 
the rising tide.” 

Frank went out soon afterward and sat down near the 
house. The fire had almost burned out and a light 
wind which had sprung up drove the last of the smoke 
the other way. The air that flowed about the boy was 
sweet and scented with the fragrance of pine and cedar. 


314 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


All around him the bush rose in somber masses and a 
faint elfin sighing fell from the tops of the tall black 
trees. It was the song of the wilderness and the wild 
and rugged land had steadily tightened its hold on him. 
As he sat and listened he was certain at last that he 
would never leave it to go back to the cities. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


FRANK BECOMES A RANCH OWNER 

T HREE or four days had passed since the attack on 
the ranch when one afternoon the boys stood on 
the deck of the sloop. Bright sunshine streamed down 
on the cove and there was a brisk breeze. The boys 
had gone down to hoist the mainsail so that it would 
dry, as it had been rolled up damp when last used ; and 
as Frank straightened himself after stooping to coil up 
the gear he noticed that a man stood at the edge of 
the water with a small camera in his hand. 

“ Look, Harry ! ” he exclaimed softly, as his compan- 
ion crawled from behind the sail. 

“ Hello 1 ” called Harry. “ What do you want? ” 

“ Keep still ! ” commanded the stranger sharply. Then 
he raised his hand. “ That’s all right ! Now you may 
move if you like.” 

“ So may you ! ” Harry answered with a chuckle. “ In 
fact, I guess you better had ! ” 

There was an ominous growl somewhere above the 
man and then a savage barking, as the dog — who had 
followed the boys to the cove and afterward wandered 
away — came scrambling furiously down the steep path. 
The man seemed to watch its approach with anxiety, and 
when it came toward him growling he stooped and picked 
up a big stone. 

“ Hold on ! ” Harry shouted. “ Put down that stone ! 
He doesn’t like strangers, and you’d better not rile him.” 

The man did as he was bidden, but when it looked 
as if the dog would drive him into the water Frank 
315 


316 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


dropped into the canoe. To his astonishment, the 
stranger suddenly held the camera in front of him and 
backed away a few paces, pointing it like a pistol at the 
growling dog, who seemed too surprised to follow. 
Then Frank ran the canoe ashore and told the man to 
get in while he drove off the dog. 

“ He’s young,” explained Frank. “ Somehow we 
haven’t managed to tame him.” 

He headed for the sloop, and the man got on board. 

“ You seem stuck on taking photographs,” Harry re- 
marked. 

“ I make a little out of them now and then,” the 
stranger answered with a smile. “ You’re Harry 
Oliver?” 

“ That’s my name.” 

“Then your friend is Frank Whitney?” 

“ Yes,” replied Harry. “ But you haven’t answered 
my question yet.” 

“ I wanted to have a talk with your father ; but I 
find that he’s out.” 

“ He won’t be back until to-night ; and, while we’d 
be glad to give you supper, it really wouldn’t be worth 
while to wait. He doesn’t want any fruit trees — the 
last we bought from outsiders had been dug up too long. 
He’s full up with implements, and we’re not open to 
buy anything.” 

The stranger laughed good-humoredly. 

“ Hadn’t you better wait until you’re asked ? I’m not 
drumming up orders.” Then he changed the subject. 
“You’ve had trouble here lately, haven’t you? From 
what I gather, your father has done a smart and coura- 
geous thing in holding off that opium gang.” 

Harry thawed and fell into the trap. He was not 
addicted to saying much about his own exploits, but he 
was proud of his father, and the man discovered this 
from his hesitating answer. It was the latter’s business 
to draw people out, and sitting down in the shelter of 


FRANK BECOMES A RANCH OWNER 317 


the coaming he cleverly led the boy on to talk. Frank 
tried to warn his companion once or twice, but failed, 
and soon the stranger drew him also into the conversation. 
Some time had slipped away when the man finally 
rose. 

“ I’m sorry I missed your father,” he said, “ but as I 
want to catch the steamer that calls at the settlement 
to-night, I must be getting back.” 

Harry paddled him ashore, and when he returned with 
the dog Frank grinned at him. 

“ That fellow hasn’t told you his business yet, and 
I’ve a pretty strong suspicion that he’s a newspaper man.” 

Harry started and frowned. 

“ Then if he prints all that stuff I’ve told him it’s a 
sure thing that dad will be jumping mad. Didn’t you 
know enough to call me off ? ” 

“ You wouldn’t stop,” Frank answered, laughing. “ I 
kept on winking for the first five minutes, and then some- 
how he gathered me in too. He’s smart at his business.” 

“ I guess we’d better not say anything about the thing,” 
decided Harry thoughtfully. “Anyway, not until we 
know whether you are right.” 

They went ashore soon afterward; and a few days 
later Mr. Webster called at the ranch. 

“ Have you Barclay’s address ? ” he asked Mr. Oliver. 
“ I want to write him.” 

Mr. Oliver gave it to him, and Mr. Webster continued : 

“ They’re getting up a supper at the settlement, and 
the stewards would like to have you and the boys come. 
They’re asking everybody between here and Carthew.” 

“ What do they want to get up a supper for ? ” 

Mr. Webster hesitated. 

“ Well,” he said, “ among other things, the new man 
is opening his big fruit ranch, and we’ve just heard that 
there’s a steamboat wharf to be built and a new wagon 
trail made. Things are looking up, and the boys feel that 
they ought to have a celebration.” 


318 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


“ All right/’ assented Mr. Oliver, “ the boys and I 
will be on hand.” 

A few minutes later Mr. Webster started home, and 
then Frank opened a letter he had brought him. He was 
astonished when he read it. 

“ It’s from Mr. Marston, who got me the position 
with the milling company — he’s a relative of ours,” he 
informed Mr. Oliver. “ It appears that he is in Port- 
land on business — shipping Walla wheat — and he says 
that he promised my mother he’d look me up if he had 
time. He may be here shortly.” 

“ We’d be glad to see him,” Mr. Oliver answered cor- 
dially. “ It isn’t a very long way to Portland.” 

Frank, however, had no further word from Mr. Mar- 
ston ; and in due time the evening of the supper arrived. 
Mr. Oliver and the boys sailed up to the settlement. 
Landing in the darkness, they found the little hotel blaz- 
ing with light. The night was mild, and a hum of voices 
and bursts of laughter drifted out from the open windows 
of the wooden building. On entering the veranda, they 
were greeted by the man who had kept the store when 
Frank first visited the settlement. 

“ I’m glad to see that you’re better,” Mr. Oliver re- 
marked. 

“ Thanks!” replied the other. “I’ve just got down 
from Seattle — the doctors have patched me up. It’s 
time I was back at business — things have been getting 
pretty mixed while I was away.” Then he changed the 
subject. “ The boys would make me chairman of this 
affair, and they’re waiting. You’re only just on time.” 

“ The wind fell light,” said Mr. Oliver. “ As there 
seems to be a good many of them, they needn’t have 
waited for my party if we hadn’t come.” 

“ Oh,” laughed the storekeeper, “ they couldn’t Fegin 
without — you.” 

Mr. Oliver looked slightly astonished ; but there was 


FRANK BECOMES A RANCH OWNER 319 


another surprise in store for him and the boys when 
they entered the largest room in the building. It was, 
for once, brilliantly lighted; and crossed fir branches 
hung on the rudely match-boarded wall, with the azure 
and silver and crimson of the flag gleaming here and 
there among them. Frank could understand the attempt 
to decorate the place, because, as a matter of fact, it 
needed it; but he did not see why the double row of 
men standing about the long table should break out into 
an applauding murmur as Mr. Oliver walked in. Most 
of them had lean, brown faces and toil-hardened hands, 
and were dressed in duck with a cloth jacket over it and 
with boots that reached to the knees, but there were 
two or three in white shirts and neat cloth suits. 

“ Boys,” said the storekeeper, “ our guest has now 
arrived. Though he tells me the wind fell light, he’s 
here on time, which is what we’ve always found him 
to be in all his doings.” He waved Mr. Oliver to the 
head of the table. “ That’s your place. It’s my duty 
to welcome you on behalf of the assembled company.” 

There was an outbreak of applause, and Mr. Oliver 
looked around with a smile. 

“ Thank you, boys,” he beamed ; “ but I don’t quite 
understand. I just came here to talk to you and get 
my supper.” 

Amid the laughter that followed there were many 
voices answering him. 

“ You’ll get it, sure! To-night we’ll do the talking — 
Sproat’s been practicing speeches on the innocent trees 
all day, and Bentley’s most as good as a gramophone. 
We’re mighty glad to have you ! Sit right down 1 ” 

The storekeeper raised his hand for silence. 

“ You’re our guest, Mr. Oliver, and that’s all there is 
to it.” He turned to the others and lowered his voice 
confidentially. “ I guess Webster didn’t explain the 
thing to him. Our friend’s backward on some occasions 


320 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


— he doesn’t like a fuss — and it’s quite likely that if 
he’d known what to expect he wouldn’t have come.” 

There was another burst of laughter; and when Mr. 
Oliver had taken his place, with the boys seated near 
him, Frank noticed for the first time that Mr. Barclay 
occupied a chair close by. Then he also saw that Mr. 
Marston, who had written to him, sat almost opposite 
across the table. 

“ I got here this afternoon and was trying to hire a 
horse when I heard that you were expected at this feast,” 
the latter said. “ Your people were in first-rate health 
when I left them.” 

It was difficult to carry on a conversation across the 
table, and Frank turned his attention to the meal, which 
was the best he had sat down to since he reached the 
bush. By and by the storekeeper stood up. 

“ Now,” he said, “ as most of you have laid in a solid 
foundation, we can talk over the dessert; and I want 
to remind you that we have several reasons for celebrat- 
ing this occasion. A start at growing fruit on a big 
scale has just been made; we’re to have a wharf; and 
there’s a wagon trail to be bridged and graded. All this 
brings you nearer the market. You have held on and 
put up a good fight with rocks and trees, and now when 
you’ll have no trouble in turning your produce into 
money you’re going to reap the reward of it. But that’s 
not our main business to-night.” 

There was an encouraging murmur, and he went on: 

“ We had a few bad men round this settlement — 
toughs, who had no use for work. Folks of their kind 
are like the fever — they’re infectious — and it’s a kind 
of curious thing that for a while the bad man generally 
comes out on top. His trouble is that he can’t stay 
there, for something big and heavy is surely going to 
fall on him sooner or later. Still, those men had a big 
combine at the back of them and they got hold. They’d 


FRANK BECOMES A RANCH OWNER 321 


have kept it longer, only that one man had a bigger head 
than most of us. He’ll tell you that the one straight way 
to get money is to work for it, and that the folks who 
begin by robbing the Government end by robbing every- 
body else. He found the combine up against him, but 
while some of us backed down he stood fast. He 
wouldn’t be fooled or bullied, and, though he didn’t go 
round saying so, when the time came that big and well- 
handled combine went down. Now it’s my pleasant 
duty to offer your thanks to Mr. Oliver for freeing you 
from what would have been the ugliest kind of tyranny.” 

He sat down amid applause, and another man got up. 

“ I’m glad to second that,” he announced. “ We were 
easy with the opium gang when they began. It was 
pleasant to get a roll of bills now and then for just leav- 
ing a team handy and saying nothing if we found a 
case in the stable; but we didn’t see where that led.” 
He stopped and turned to Mr. Barclay, who was smiling 
at him. “ What’d you say, sir?” 

“ It struck me that you were forgetting what my pro- 
fession is,” Mr. Barclay answered dryly. “ You’re not 
compelled to give yourself and your friends away.” 

This remark was followed by laughter ; then the speaker 
proceeded : 

“ Anyhow, the dope boys began to change their tone. 
At first, they paid and asked favors ; but when they got 
folks so they couldn’t go back on them they ordered, 
and seldom paid at all. It was getting what my friend 
calls tyranny, and the small man had to stand in and 
ask the gang for leave to live. We’d have been in a 
mighty tight place now if one rancher hadn’t boldly 
stood out. That’s why we’re offering our best thanks 
to Mr. Oliver, who got up and fought the gang.” 

There was a shout that set the shingles rattling over- 
head, and when it died away Mr. Oliver, who looked 
embarrassed, said a few simple words, which were fol- 


322 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


lowed by riotous applause. Then Frank looking around 
saw that a sheet of newspaper with three pictures on 
it was pinned to the wall. 

“ What’s that thing ? ” he asked, leaning back to touch 
Harry. “ You’re nearer it.” 

One of the men took the paper down and handed it 
to him. 

“ Well,” he drawled, “ I guess you ought to know your 
own likeness.” 

Frank gasped as he took the paper, for the two por- 
traits at the top of it were of Harry and himself, and 
underneath them appeared the dog. There was a con- 
spicuous black heading over them. 

" The modest salvors of the opium schooner, and their 
dog ” it read. 

Beneath this there was about a column dealing with 
Mr. Oliver’s exploits and their own. Frank glanced at 
parts of it with blank astonishment. 

“ You never told him all that stuff,” he declared, 
passing it to Harry. 

Mr. Oliver intercepted the paper, and his expression 
hinted at half-disgusted amusement. 

“ Didn’t you know any better than to tell a story of 
this kind to a newspaper man?” he asked. “ Read a 
little of it!” 

Harry’s face flushed as he read. 

“ I didn’t tell him half of it,” he protested. “ Besides, 
I didn’t know what he was.” 

Mr. Oliver laughed at last ; and just then another man 
got up and made a speech about Mr. Barclay, who rose 
and looked down the table with a quiet smile. 

“ I appreciate what you have said of my doings, boys, 
and now I’ll base my few observations on one of the 
first speaker’s remarks,” he began. “ He stated that 
the man who began by robbing the Government would 
end by robbing everybody else ; but he was wrong. The 
man who robs the Government is robbing every other 


FRANK BECOMES A RANCH OWNER 823 


citizen. Each of us is part of a system that’s built up, 
we believe, on the rock of the constitution. Otherwise, 
if you were merely individuals, doing just as you wished, 
obeying nobody, you could live only like the Indians, 
holding your ranches and cattle — if you had them — 
with the rifle. All commerce and security is founded on 
the fact that we’re not separate men, but a nation. Well, 
the nation wants troops, and warships, judges, courts, 
schools, and roads. It expects you to pay your share, 
since you get the benefit, and every man who beats it 
out of one tax or duty is playing a mean game on and 
stealing from the rest. That’s the one point I want to 
make clear.” 

Then, to the confusion of Harry and Frank, they were 
commended; and afterward the company broke up into 
groups to talk and smoke. Mr. Oliver and the boys, 
Mr. Marston, Mr. Webster and Mr. Barclay still sat 
together, and presently Mr. Barclay turned to the boys. 

“ I’ve some news for you,” he announced. “ The 
schooner has been surveyed. She’s very little damaged, 
and the authorities, who have seized her, have decided to 
allow your claim in full. As soon as she’s sold, they’ll 
forward you a treasury order.” 

“And we’ll really get all that money?” Frank asked 
with a gasp. 

“ It seems pretty certain.” 

The blood rushed into Frank’s face. 

“ It would go a long way toward buying a small, half- 
cleared ranch,” he exclaimed joyfully. 

“ I’ve one to sell,” laughed Mr. Webster. “ You can 
have it cheap.” 

“ Are you serious?” Mr. Oliver inquired. 

“ Sure 1 ” was the answer. “ I never was much good 
at ranching, and the place is too small to feed more than 
a few head of stock. It might pay growing fruit; but 
if I did any planting now I’d have to wait three or four 
years before I got any returns worth while, and I was 


324 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


always kind of smart at carpentering. I could get con- 
tracts for building log bridges and cutting wharf piles 
now, and I’d let the ranch go at a very moderate price.” 

“ How much do you want ? ” 

When Mr. Webster told him, Mr. Oliver considered 
the matter for a few moments. 

“ I’ll have to start Harry in another three or four 
years, and if we put in a lot of young trees they’d be 
in good bearing by that time,” he said thoughtfully. 
“We could work the place from our own ranch in the 
meanwhile; but I’m afraid I can’t raise the price you 
ask. Would you let part stand over on a mortgage ? ” 

“ I can’t do that,” was the reply, “ though I’d like to 
oblige you. You see, if I’m to handle those contracts 
properly, I must have the money to buy tools and to 
pay wages. But suppose we appoint two valuers to fix 
a figure.” 

The boys had been listening intently, and Frank broke 
in : 

“ Harry and I have decided to go partners in a ranch 
some day, and there’s the salvage money.” 

“ It wouldn’t be enough,” said Mr. Oliver regretfully. 

Mr. Marston touched Mr. Oliver’s shoulder. 

“ I’d like a few words with you privately.” 

They crossed the room, and after talking for a while 
in low tones Mr. Marston beckoned Frank, who had 
been waiting in tense excitement. Mr. Marston was a 
middle-aged business man, with keen eyes and a thought- 
ful face, and he looked at Frank steadily. 

“ Sit down and listen to me,” he said. “ Because I’m 
a relative of yours and also because I had a great respect 
for your father, I meant from the beginning to help you 
along. On the other hand, I’ve seen young men spoiled 
by knowing that they had friends ready to give them a 
lift, and I decided to let you make the best fight you 
could, for a year or two. That’s why I sent you to the 
flour mill, instead of putting you into something easier; 


FRANK BECOMES A RANCH OWNER 325 


and I may say that I wasn’t altogether pleased when 
you left it.” 

“ I was turned out, sir,” Frank corrected him with 
some color in his face. 

Mr. Marston smiled. 

“We’ll let it go at that. The main thing is that you 
didn’t come back for help. Instead, you made another 
start for yourself ; and you seem to have done well here. 
According to a newspaper which I’ve read, you have 
even distinguished yourself lately.” He laughed before 
he proceeded. “ Anyway, you have shown that one could 
have some confidence in you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Mr. Marston raised his hand. 

“ Let me finish. Before I left Boston I went over 
your mother’s business affairs, and by and by I think 
she could give you — we’ll say a thousand dollars; you 
have your share of the salvage payment ; and Mr. Oliver 
is willing to lay out some money on his son’s account. 
Well, I’ll find the balance — on a mortgage — but you’ll 
have to make the ranch pay, or ” — and he smiled — 
“ I’ll certainly foreclose and turn you out.” 

Frank tried to thank him, but he could find very little 
to say in his excitement. Then Mr. Marston called 
Harry. 

“ I understand that you are anxious to take Mr. Web- 
ster’s ranch with Frank, and would be willing to work it 
under your father’s direction until the youngest of you 
is twenty-one. Is that correct ? ” 

Harry’s face was glowing. 

“ Yes, sir,” he answered eagerly. “ We’ll do what we 
can. 

“ Then if your father and Mr. Webster will go down 
to Seattle with me, we’ll get the transfer made and a 
deed drawn up to fix the thing.” 

Frank could never remember what he said or did dur- 
ing the next few minutes, but it was the proudest and 


826 BOY RANCHERS OF PUGET SOUND 


happiest time he had spent in his life. Then he turned 
to Mr. Marston and Mr. Oliver, who were standing near. 

“ I’ll have very little time to spare after this,” he said, 
“ and I should like to spend a little of the salvage money 
going back to Boston to see my mother and the others 
before I begin.” 

“Of course!” ejaculated Mr. Marston. “A very 
proper thing! You needn’t wait until Mr. Barclay sends 
you his order. I’ll arrange your ticket.” 

He moved away, and shortly afterward the company 
dispersed. 

A week later Frank and Harry and Jake sailed out in 
the sloop to intercept the south-bound steamer. She 
came up, with side-wheels churning a broad track of 
foam and her smoke trail streaming astern. When her 
engines stopped, Frank and Harry dropped into the canoe 
and in a few minutes they were alongside. Frank swung 
himself up on board and then looked back at the canoe. 

“ Have a good time ! ” cried Harry. “ The best you 
can ! You’ll have to work when you come back ! ” 

“You’ll see me in six weeks,” Frank answered with 
a wave of his hand ; and the canoe dropped astern as 
the engines started and the steamer forged ahead. 


THE END 


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